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To feed the flame, let heapy forests rise,
Far be it seen to fret the ruddy skies,
And grieve despairing Pompey where he flies.

Know too, proud conqueror, thy wrath in vain
Strews with unbury'd carcases the plain.
What is it to thy malice, if they burn,

114
Rot in the field, or moulder in the urn?
The forms of matter all diffolving die,
And lost in nature's blending bosom lie.
Though now thy cruelty denies a grave,
These and the world one common lot thall have;

1145 One last appointed fame, by Fate's decree, Shall waste yon azure heavens, this earth, and fea; Shall knead the dead up in one mingled mass, Where stars and they shall undistinguish'd pass. And though thou scorn their fellowship, yet know, High as thy own can soar these fouls shall go; Or find, perhaps, a better place below. Death is beyond thy Goddess Fortune's power, And parent Earth receives whate'er the bore. Nor will we mourn those Romans fate, who lie 1155 Beneath the glorious covering of the sky; That starry arch for ever round them turns, A nobler shelter far than tombs or urns,

But wherefore parts the loathing victor hence ? Does flaughter strike too strongly on thy sense; 116 Yet stay, yet breathe the thick infectious stream, Yet quaff with joy the blood-polluted steam. But see, they fiy! the daring warriors yield ! And the dead heaps drive Cæfar from the field!

Now

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Now to the prey, gaunt wolves, a howling train, 1165 Speed hungry from the far Bistonian plain ; From Pholoe the tawny lion comes, And growling bears forsake their darksome homes : With these, lean dogs in herds obscene repair, And every kind that snuffs the tainted air.

1170 For food the cranes their wonted flight delay, That erst to warmer Nile had wing'd their way : With them the feather'd race convene from far, Who gather to the prey, and wait on war. Ne'er were such flocks of vultures seen to fly, 1175 And hide with spreading plumes the crouded sky: Gorging on limbs in every tree they sat, And drop'd raw morsels down, and gory fat: Oft their tir'd talons, loosening as they fled, Rain'd horrid offals on the victor's head.

1180 But while the slain supply'd too full a feast, The plenty bred satiety at last; The ravenous feeders riot at their ease, And single out what dainties best may please. Part borne away, the rest neglected lie,

1185 For noon-day suns, and parching winds, to dry; Till length of time Thall wear them quite away, And mix them with Emathia's common clay.

Oh fatal Thessaly ! Oh land abhorr'd ! How have thy fields the hate of heaven incurrid; 1190 That thus the gods to thee destruction doom, And load thee with the curse of falling Rome! Still to new crimes, new horrors, dost thou haste, When yet thy former mischiefs scarce were past.

What

What rolling years, what ages, can repay 1195
The multitudes thy wars have swept away!
Though tombs and urns their numerous store should

spread,
And long antiquity yield all her dead ;
Thy guilty plains more slaughter'd Romans hold,
Than all those tombs, and all those urns, infold. 1200
Hence bloody spots shall stain thy grassy green,
And crimson drops on bladed corn be seen :
Each plowshare some dead patriot shall moleft,
Disturb his bones, and rob his ghost of rest.
Oh! had the guilt of war been all thy own, IZOS
Were civil rage confin'd to thee alone;
No mariner his labouring bark should moor,
In hopes of safety, on thy dreadful Thore;
No swain thy spectre- haunted plain should know,
Nor turn thy blood-Itain'd fallow with his plow : 1212
No shepherd e’er should drive his flock to feed,
Where Romans slain enrich the verdant mead:
All defolate should lie thy land and waste,
As in some scorch'd or frozen region plac'd.
But the great gods forbid our partial hate 12 1.5
On Thessaly’s distinguish'd land to wait;
New blood, and other flaughters, they decree,
And others fall be guilty too, like thee.
Munda and Mutina fhall boast their Naing
Pachynus' waters share the purple stain,
And Actium justify Pharsalia's plain.

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LUCAN’S PHARSALIA.

в о о к

VIII.

THE ARGUMENT.

From Pharsalia, Pompey flies, first to Lariffa, and after

to the sea-fhore ; where he embarks upon a small veffel for Leloos. There, after a melancholy meeting with Cornelia, and his refusal of the Mitylenians invitations, he embarks with his wife for the coast of Asia. In the way thither he is joined by his son Sextus, and several persons of distinction, who had fed likewise from the late battle ; and among the reft by Deiotarus, king of Gallo-Græcia. To him lie j'ecommends the foliciting of fupplies from the king of Parthia, and the reft of his allies in Afia. After coafting Cilicia for fome time, he comes at length to a little town called Syedra or Syedræ, where great part of the fenate meet him. With these, he deliberates upon the present circumstances of the commonwealth, and proposes either Mauritania, Ægypt, or Parthia, as the proper places where he may hope to be received, and from whole kings he may expect assistance. In his own opinion he inclines to the Parthians ; but this Lentulus, in a long oration, opposes very warmly ; and, in confideration of young Ptolemy's personal obligations to Pompey, prefers Egypt. This advice is generally approved and followed, and Pompey fets fail accordingly for Ægypt. Upon his arrival on that coast, the king calls a council, where at the instigation of Pothinus, a villainous minifter, it is resolved to take his life; and the execution of this order is committed to the care of Achillas, formerly the king's governor, and then

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general of the army. He, with Septimius, a renegado Roman soldier, who had formerly served under Pompey,

, upon fome frivolous pretences, persuades him to quit his ship, and come into their boat; where, as they make towards the fhore, he trea cherously murders bim, in the sight of his wife, his fon, and the rest of his fleet. His head is cut off, and bis body thrown into the fea. The head is fixed upon a fpear, and carried to Ptolemy; who, after he had seen it, commands it to be enbalmed. In the succeeding night, one Cordus, who had been a follower of Pompey, finds the trunk floating near the shore, brings it to land with some difficulty ; and, with a few planks that remained from a shipwrecked vessel, burns it. The melancholy description of this mean funeral, with the poet's invective against the gods, and fortune, for their unworthy treatment of so great a man, concludes this book.

OW through the vale, by great Alcides made,

And the sweet maze of Tempe's pleasing shade,
Chearless, thy flying chief renew'd his speed,
And urg'd, with gory fpurs, his fainting steed.
Fall'n from the former greatness of his mind, 5
He turns where doubtful paths obscurely wind.
The fellows of his flight increase his dread,
While hard behind the trampling horsemen tread :
He starts at every rustling of the trees,
And fears the whispers of each murmuring breeze. I
He feels not yet, alas! his lost estate ;
And, though he flies, believes himself still great;.
Imagines millions for his life are bid,
And rates his own, as he would Cæsar's head.

Where

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