So in Pannonian woods the growling bear,
Transfix'd, grows fiercer for the hunter's spear,
Turns on her wound, runs madding round with pain,
And catches at the flying fhaft in vain.
Down from his eyelefs hollow ran the blood,
And hideous o'er his mangled vifage flow'd;
Deform'd each awful, each feverer grace,
And veil'd the manly terrors of his face.
The victors raise their joyful voices high,
And with loud triumph ftrike the vaulted sky:
Not Cæfar thus a general joy had spread,
Though Cæfar's felf like Scæva thus had bled.
Anxious, the wounded foldier, in his breaft,
The rifing indignation deep repreft,
And thus, in humble vein, his haughty foes addrest:
Here let your rage, ye Romans, cease, he said,
And lend your fellow-citizen your aid;
No more your darts nor ufelefs javelins try
Thefe, which I bear, will deaths enow fupply,
Draw forth your weapons, and behold I die.
Or rather bear me hence, and let me meet
My doom beneath the mighty Pompey's fect:
'Twere great, 'twere brave, to fall in arms, 'tis true,
But I renounce that glorious fate for you.
Fain would I yet prolong this vital breath,
And quit even Cæfar, so I fly from death.
The wretched Aulus liften'd to the wile,
Intent and greedy of the future fpoil;
Advancing fondly on, with heedless ease,
He thought the captive and his arms to feize,
When, ere he was aware, his thundering fword
Deep in his throat the ready Scava gor'd.
Warm'd with the flaughter, with fresh rage he burns,
And vigour with the new fuccefs returns.
So may they fall (he faid) by juft deceit,
Such be their fate, fuch as this fool has met,
Who dare believe that I am vanquish'd yet!
If you would stop the vengeance of my fword,
From Cæfar's mercy be your peace implor'd,
There let your leader kneel, and humbly own his lord.
Me! could you meanly dare to fancy, me
Bafe, like yourselves, and fond of life to be!
But know, not all the names which grace your caufe,
Your reverend fenate, and your boafted laws,
Not Pompey's felf, not all for which you fear,
Were e'er to you, like death to Scæva, dear.
Thus while he spoke, a rifing duft betray'd
Cæfarian legions marching to his aid.
415 Now Pompey's troops with prudence seem to yield, And to increafing numbers quit the field; Diffembling fhame, they hide their foul defeat, Nor vanquifh'd by a single arm retreat.
Then fell the warrior, for till then he stood;
His manly mind fupply'd the want of blood.
It feem'd as rage had kindled life anew,
And courage to oppofe, from oppofition grew.
But now, when none were left him to repel,
Fainting for want of foes, the victor fell.
Straight with officious hafte his friends draw near,
And, raising, joy the noble load to bear:
To reverence and religious awe inclin'd,
Admiring, they adore his mighty mind,
That god within his mangled breast infhrin'd.
The wounding weapons, ftain'd with Scæva's blood,
Like facred relics to the gods are vow'd:
Forth are they drawn from every part with care,
And kept to drefs the naked God of War.
Oh! happy foldier, had thy worth been try'd,
In pious daring, on thy country's fide!
Oh! had thy sword Iberian battles known,
Or purple with Cantabrian flaughter grown;
How had thy name in deathless annals fhone!
But now no Roman Pæan fhalt thou fing,
Nor peaceful triumphs to thy country bring,
Nor loudly bleft in folemn pomp fhalt move,
Through crouding ftreets, to Capitolian Jove,
The laws defender, and the people's love :
Oh, hapless victor thou! oh, vainly brave!
How haft thou fought, to make thyself a slave!
Nor Pompey, thus repuls'd, the fight declines,
Nor refts encompass'd round by Cæfar's lines;
Once more he means to force his warlike way,
And yet retrieve the fortune of the day.
So when fierce winds with angry ocean strive,
Full on the beach the beating billows drive;
Stable awhile the lofty mounds abide,
Check the proud furge, and stay the fwelling tide:
Yet restless still the waves unweary'd roll,
Work underneath at length, and fap the finking mole.
With force renew'd the baffled warrior bends,
Where to the shore the jutting wall extends :
S 2
There proves, by land and sea, 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 visit 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 spoil. 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 scatter'd by the victor round,
And his proud labours humbled to the ground.
Thence to the hoftile camp his eyes he turns,
Where for their peace, and fleep secure, 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 strife,
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, fafe 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 fky,
Hear the winds roar, and mark the feas run high,
They furl the fluttering fheet 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 paft;
When swift defcending 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 fwain,
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 shun,
Blind with their fear, full on their fates they run.
Well, on that day, the world repofe had gain'd,
And bold rebellion's blood had all been drain'd,
Had not the pious chief the rage of war restrain'd.
Oh, Rome! how free, how happy hadst thou been !
Thy own great miftrefs, and the nations queen!
Had Sylla, then, thy great avenger stood,
And dy'd his thirfty fword in traitors blood.
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