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There proves, by land and sea, his various might,
And wins his pallage by the double fight.
Wide o'er the plains diffus'd his legions range,
And their close camp for freer fields exchange.
So, rais d by melting streams of Alpine snow,
Beyond his utmost margin swells the Po,
And loosely lets the spreading deluge flow :
Where-e'er the weaker banks opprest retreat,
And sink beneath the heapy waters weight,
Forth gushing at the breach, they burst their way,
And wasteful o'er the drowned country stray :
Far distant fields and meads they wander o'er, 470
And visit lands they never knew before ;
Here, from its seat the mouldering earth is torn,
And by the flood to other masters borne;
While gathering, there, it heaps the growing foil,
And loads the peasant with his neighbour's spoil. 475

Soon as ascending high, a rising flame,
To Cæsar's fight, the combat's signal, 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 hostile camp his eyes he turns,
Where for their peace, and sleep secure, he mourns,
With rancorous despite, and envious anguish, burns.
At length resolvid (so rage inspir'd his breast)
He means to break the happy victor's rest; 485
Once more to kindle up the fatal strife,
And dath 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, 490
Trusts 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 seamen fron afar descry
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 wisely for the coming storm prepare.
But now the victor, with resistless haste,
Proud o'er the ramparts of the fort had past;
When swift descending from the rising grounds,
Pompey with lengthening files the foe surrounds.
As when in Ætna's hollow caves below,
Round the vast furnace kindling whirlwinds blow;
Rouz'd in his baleful bower the giant roars, 505
And with a burst the burning deluge pours;
Then pale with horror Thrieks the fhuddering swain,
To see the fiery ruin spread the plain.
Nor with less horror Cæsar's bands behold
Huge hostile dusty clouds their rear infold; 510
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 restrain'd.
Oh, Rome ! how free, how happy hadít thou been !
Thy own great mistress, and the nations queen!
Had Sylla, then, thy great avenger stood,
And dy'd his thirsty sword in traitors blood.
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But, oh! for ever shalt thou now bemoan
The two extremes, by which thou wert undone,
The ruthless father, and too tender fon.
With fatal pity, Pompey, hast 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 !
The Pharian Nile had known no crime more great
Than some vile Ptolemy's untimely fate;
Nor Afric, then, nor Juba, had bemoan'd,
Nor Scipio's blood the Punic ghosts aton'd;

530 Cato had, for his country's good, survivid, 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,

535 Swift to Æmathia leads his shatter'd band; While Pompey's wary friends, with caution wife, To quit the baffled foe's pursuit advise. To Italy they point his open way, And bid him make the willing land his prey. Oh! never, (he replies) shall Pompey come, Like Cæsar arm’d, and terrible to Rome; Nor need I from those sacred walls have fled, Could I have horne our streets with slaughter red, And seen the Forum pild with heaps of dead. Much rather let me pine in Scythia's frost, Or burn on swarthy Libya's sultry coast; No clime, no distant region, is too far, Where I can banish, with me, fatal war.

I fled,





I fled, to bid my country's sorrows cease;
And shall my victories invade her peace ?
Let her but safe and free from arms remain,
And Cæsar ftill fhall think she wears his chain.

He spoke, and eastward fought the forest wide,
That rising clothes Candavia's shady side ; 555
Thence to Æmathia took his destin'd way,
Reserv'd by fate for the deciding day.

Where Eurus blows, and wintery suns arise, Theffalia's boundary proud Ossa lies ; But when the god protracts the longer day, Pelion's broad back receives the dawning ray. Where through the Lion's fiery sign he flies, Othrys his leafy groves for shades supplies. On Pindus strikes the fady western light, When glittering Vefper leads the Itarry night. 565 Northward, Olympus hides the lamps, that roll Their paler fires around the frozen pole. The middle space, a valley low depress’d, Once a wide, lazy, standing lake possess’d; While growing still the heapy waters stood, 570 Nor down through Tempe ran the rushing flood : But when Alcides to the talk apply'd, And cleft a patrage through the mountains wide; Gushing at once the thundering torrent flow d, While Nereus groan'd beneath th' increasing load. 575 Then rose (oh, that it still a lake had lain !) Above the waves Pharsalia's fatal plain, Once subject to the great Achilles' reign, Then Phylace was built, whose warriors boast Their chief first landed on the Trojan coast;

583 S4


Then Pteleos ran her circling wall around,
And Dorion, for the Muses'-wrath renown'd:
Then Trachin high, and Melibæa stood,
Where Hercules his fatal shafts bestow'd;
Larissa strong arose, and Argos, now

A plain, submitted to the labouring plow.
Here stood the town, if there be truth in fame,
That from Baotian Thebes receiv'd its name.
Here fad Agave's wandering sense return'd,
Here for her murder'd son the mother mourn'd; 590
With streaming tears she wash'd his ghastly head,
And on the funeral pile the precious relick laid.

The gushing waters various soon divide,
And every river rules a separate tide ;
The narrow Æas runs a limpid flood,

Evenos blushes with the Centaur's blood;
That gently mingles with th’ Ionian sea,
While this, through Calydonia, cuts his way.
Slowly fair lo's aged father falls,
And in hoarse murmurs his lost daughter calls. 600
Thick Acheloüs rolls his troubled waves,
And heavily the neighbour isles he laves;
While pure Amphrysus winds along the mead,
Where Phoebus once was wont his fiocks to feed :
Oft on the banks he sat a shepherd (wain,
And watch'd his charge upon the grassy plain.
Swift to the main his course Sperchios bends,
And, founding, to the Malian gulph descends.
No breezy air near calm Anauros flies,
No dewy mists, nor fleecy clouds arise.

610 Here


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