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 fhores 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 ftate. Obedient he, fince thus their wills ordain, A gracious tyrant condescends to reign. His mighty name the joyful Fafti 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, 56.5 Which we, their flavifh fons, fo well retain :
Then, firft, were feen to join, an ill-match'd pair,
The ax of justice, with the sword 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 ftate 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 feftival 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 feamen dread the wintery figns. 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!
Unlike the wanton fickle gales, that bring
The cloudy changes of the faithless spring.
Nor need we now to shift, to tack, and veer:
Steady the friendly north commands to steer.
Oh! that the fury of the driving blast
May fwell the fail, and bend the lofty mast.
So, shall our navy foon be wafted o'er,
Ere yon Phæacian gallies dip the oar,
And intercept the wifh'd-for Grecian shore.
Cut every cable then, and hafte away;
The waiting winds and feas upbraid our long delay.
Low in the west the fetting fun was laid,
Up rofe the night in glittering ftars array'd,
And filver Cynthia cast a lengthening shade;
When loofing from the shore the moving fleet,
All hands at once unfurl the spreading sheet;
The flacker tacklings let the canvas flow,
To gather all the breath the winds can blow.
Swift, for a while, they fcud before the wind,
And leave Hefperia's leffening shores behind;
When, lo! the dying breeze begins to fail,
And flutters on the maft the flagging fail:
The duller waves with flower heavings creep,
And a dead calm benumbs the lazy deep.
As when the winter's potent breath constrains
The Scythian Euxine in her icy chains;
No more the Bosphori their streams maintain,
Nor rushing Ifter heaves the languid main;
Each keel inclos'd, at once forgets its courfe,
While o'er the new-made champion bounds the horse :
Bold on the crystal plains the Thracians ride,
And print with founding keels the stable tide.
So ftill a form th' Ionian waters take,
Dull as the muddy marth and standing lake:
No breezes o'er the curling furface pass,
Nor fun-beams tremble in the liquid glass;
No usual turns revolving Tethys knows,
Nor with alternate rollings ebbs and flows :
But fluggish ocean fleeps in ftupid peace,
And weary nature's motions feem to cease.
With differing eyes the hoftile fleets beheld
The falling winds, and ufelefs watery field.
There Pompey's daring powers attempt in vain
To plow their passage through th' unyielding main
While, pinch'd by want, proud Cæfar's legions here
The dire diftrefs of meagre famine fear.
With vows unknown before they reach the skies,
That waves may dash, and mounting billows rife ; 650
That ftorms may with returning fury reign,
And the rude ocean be itself again.
At length the ftill, the fluggish darkness fled,
And cloudy morning rear'd its louring head.
The rolling flood the gliding navy bore,
And hills appear'd to pass upon the shore.
Attending breezes waft them to the land,
And Cæfar's anchors bite Palæfte's ftrand.
In neighbouring camps the hoftile chiefs fit down, Where Genufus the fwift, and Apfus run; Among th' ignobler croud of rivers, these Soon lose their waters in the mingling seas :
No mighty streams nor distant springs they know,
But rife from muddy lakes, and melting fnow.
Here meet the rivals who the world divide,
Once by the tenderest bands of kindred ty'd.
The world with joy their interview beheld,
Now only parted by a single field.
Fond of the hopes of peace, mankind believe, Whene'er they come thus near, they must forgive. 670 Vain hopes for foon they part to meet no more,
Till both fhall reach the curft Ægyptian fhore;
Till the proud father shall in arms fucceed,
And fee his vanquish'd fon untimely bleed;
Till he beholds his afhes on the ftrand,
Views his pale head within a villain's hand;
Till Pompey's fate fhall Cæfar's tears demand.
The latter yet his eager rage restrains,
While Antony the lingering troops detains.
Repining much, and griev'd at war's delay,
Impatient Cæfar often chides his stay,
Oft he is heard to threat, and humbly oft to pray.
Still fhall the world (he cries) thus anxious wait?
Still wilt thou ftop the gods, and hinder fate?
What could be done before, was done by me : 685
Now ready fortune only stays for thee.
What holds thee then? Do rocks thy courfe withstand?
Or Libyan Syrts oppofe their faithless strand ?
Or doft thou fear new dangers to explore?
I call thee not, but where I pafs'd before.
For all thofe hours thou lofeft, I complain,
And fue to heaven for profperous winds in vain.
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