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When, from afar, the marching troops appear,
Not in loose squadrons, scatter'd here and there,
But one broad front of war, as if that day
To meet an equal force, and fight in just array.
While Cæsar thinks not the town-walls secure,
He bars the palace-gates, compell'd t' endure
Th' inglorious siege, and in a corner hide
Enclos'd, nor dares to the whole court confide.
In haste he arms his friends; his anxious breast,
Now fir'd with fury, now with doubt deprest,
Much fears th' assault, yet more that fear disdains;
So when some generous savage, bound with chains,
Is shut within his den, he howls with rage,
And breaks his teeth against the massy cage:
And thus, if by new weight of hills impos'd
Sicilian Etua's breathing jaws were clos'd,
Ev'n thus th' imprison'd god of Fire would rave,
And drive his flames, rebellowing, round the cave.
Behold the man, who lately scorn'd to dread
The senate's army to just battle led, [head,
The flower of Roman lords, and Pompey at their
Who, in a cause forbidding hope, could trust
That Providence for him should prove unjust,
Behold him now opprest, forlorn of aid,
Driv'n to a house, and of a slave afraid!

He, whom rough Scythians had not dar'd abuse,
Nor savage Moors, who barbarously use,
In sport, to try inhospitable arts

On strangers bound, their living mark for darts,
Tho' Rome's extended world, tho' India join'd
With Tyrian Gades, seems a realm contin'd,
A space too scanty to his vaster mind,
Now, like a boy or tender maid, he flies,
When sudden arms th' invaded works surprise;
He traverses the court, each room explores,
His hope is all in bars and bolted doors.
Yet doubtful, while he wanders here and there,
He leads the captive king his fate to share,
Or expiate that death the slaves for him prepare.
If darts or missive flames shall fail, he'll throw
Their sovereign's head against th' advancing foe.
So, when Medea fled her native clime,
And fear'd just vengeance on her impious crime,
With ready steel the cruel sorceress stood,
To greet her father with her brother's blood,
Prepar'd his head, to stop, with dire affright,
A parent's speed, and to assure her flight.

Yet Cesar, that unequal arms might cease,
Suspends his fury, and essays a peace.
A herald from the king is sent, t' assuage
His rebel servants, and upbraid their rage,
And, in their absent tyrant's name, t' inquire
The secret author of this kindled fire.
But, scornful of reproach, th' audacious crew
The sacred laws of nations overthrew,
And for his speech the royal envoy slew.
Inhuman deed! that swells the guilty score
Of Egypt's monsters, well increas'd before.
Not Thessaly, not Juba's savage train,
Pharnaces' impious troops, not cruel Spain,
Nor Pontus, nor the Syrtes' barbarous land,
Dar'd an attempt like this voluptuous band.

Th' attack is form'd, the palace closely pent;
Huge javelins to the shaken walls are sent,
A storm of flying spears; yet, from below,
No battering rams resistless drive the blow,
No engine's brought, no fires; the giddy crowd
In parties roam, and, with brute clamours loud,

In several bands their wasted strength, divide, And here and there to force an entrance try'd; In vain, for Fortune fights on Casar's side.

Then, where the palace, 'midst surrounding waves,
Projects luxuriant, and their fury braves,
The ships too their united force apply,
And swiftly hurl the naval war on high,
Yet, present every where with sword or fire,
Casar th' approaches guards, and makes the foes.
retire.

To all by turns he brings successful aids,
Inverts the war, and, though besieg'd, invades.
Fireballs, and torches drest with unctuous spoil
Of tar combustible, and frying oil,
Kindled, he launch'd against the fleet; nor slow
The catching flames invest the smouldering tow.
The pitchy planks their crackling prey become;
The painted sterns and rowers seats consume.
There hulks, half burnt, sink in the main; and here
Arins on the waves and drowning me.
ppear.

Nor thus suffic'd, the flames from thence aspire,
And seize the buildings with contagious fire.
Swift o'er the roofs, by winds increas'd, they fly;
So shooting meteors blaze along the sky,
And lead their wandering course with sudden glare,
By sulphurous atoms fed in fields of thinnest air.
Affrighted crowds the growing ruin view;
To save the city from the siege they flew,
When Casar, wont the lucky hour to choose
Of sudden chance in war, and wisely use,
Lost not in slothful rest the favouring night,
But shipp'd his men, and sudden took his flight.
Pharos he seiz'd, an island heretofore,
When prophet Proteus Egypt's sceptre bore,
Now by a chain of moles contiguous to the shore.
Here Cæsar's arms a double use obtain ;
Hence from the straiten'd foe he bars the main,
While to his friends th' important harbour lies
A safe retreat, and open to supplies.
Nor longer now the doom suspended stands,
Which justice on Pothinus' guilt demands.
Yet not as guilt, unmatch'd like his, requires,
Not by the shameful cross, or torturing fires,
Nor torn by ravenous beasts, the howling wretch
expires.

The sword, dishonour'd, did his head divide,
And by a fate like Rome's best son he dy'd.
Arsinoe now, by well-concerted snares,
'Scap'd from the palace, to the foe repairs;
The trusty Ganymede assists her flight,
Then o'er the camp she claim'd a sovereign's right;
Her brother absent, she assumes the sword,
And frees the tyrant from his household lord:
By her just hand Achillas meets his fate,
Rebel accurs'd! in blood and mischief great!
Another victim, Pompey, to thy shade;
But think not yet the full atonement made,
Though Egypt's king, though all the royal line,
Should fall, thy murmuring ghost would still repine;
Still unreveng'd thy murder would remain,
Till Cæsar's purple life the senate's swords shall stain.

Nor does the swelling tempest yet subside.
The chief remov'd that did its fury guide,
To the same charge bold Ganymede succeeds,
Prosperous awhile in many hardy deeds.
So long th' event of war in balance lay,
So great the dangers of that doubtful day,

That Cæsar from that day alone might claim
Immortal wreaths, and all the warrior's fame,

Now, while to quit the straiten'd mole he strove,
And to the vacant ships the fight remove,
War's utmost terrouts press on every side;
Before the strand besieging navies ride;
Behind, the troops advance. No way is seen
T'escape, or scarce a glorious death to win.
No room with slaughter'd foes to strew the plain,
And bravely fall amidst a pile of slain.
A captive to the place he now appears,
Doubtful if death should move his hope, or fears.

In this distress, a sudden thought inspir'd
His hardy breast, by great examples fir'd;
Bold Scæva's action he to mind recalls,
And glory won near fam'd Dyrrhachium's walls;
Where, whilst his men a doubtful fight maintain,
And Pompey strove the batter'd works to gain,
Amidst a field of foes, that hemm'd him round,
Alone the brave centurion kept his ground.

Here the original poem breaks off abruptly, having been left untinished by the author.

THE

POEMS

OP

JOHN SHEFFIELD,

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.

-Nec Phoebo gratior ulla est

Quam sibi quæ Vari præscripsit pagina nomen.

Virg.

TO THE MEMORY OF

JOHN SHEFFIELD,

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE,

THESE

HIS MORE LASTING REMAINS

(THE MONUMENT OF HIS MIND, AND MORE PERFECT IMAGE OF HIMSELF)

ARE HERE COLLECTED BY THE DIRECTION OF

CATHARINE HIS DUCHESS:

DESIROUS THAT HIS ASHES MAY BE HONOURED,

AND HIS FAME AND MERIT COMMITTED TO THE TEST OF

TIME, TRUTH, AND POSTERITY,

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