The faithlefs garrifon betray the town,ow at allover% And captive drag their valiant leader down. b) bir baA The noble Roman, fearless, though in bands, seivi Before his haughty fellow-fubject ftands,
With looks erect, and with a daring brow,
Death he provokes, and courts the fatal blow: buLA
But Cæfar's arts his inmoft thoughts descry,
His fear of pardon, and defire to die.
From me thy forfeit life (he faid) receive,
And, though repining, by my bounty live;
That all, by thy example taught, may know,
How Cæfar's mercy treats a vánquish'd foe
Still arm against me, keep thy hatred still, and show And if thou conquer'ft, ufe thy conqueft, kill.
Returns of love, or favour, feek I none;
Nor give thy life to bargain for my own.
So faying, on the inftant he commands.om
To loofe the galling fetters from his hands.
Oh fortune! better were it, he had dy'd,
And spar'd the Roman fhame, and Cæfar's pride.
What greater grief can on a Roman seize,
Than to be forc'd to live on terms like thefe ! bott
To be forgiven, fighting for the laws,
And need a pardon in his country's cause!
Struggling with rage, undaunted he represt
The fwelling paffions in his labouring breast;
Thus murmuring to himfelf: Wilt thou to Rome,
Bafe as thou art, and feek thy lazy home?
To war, to battle, to deftruction fly,
And hafte, as it becomes thee well, to die;
Provoke the worst effects of deadly strife,
And rid thee of this Cæfar's gift, this life.
Meanwhile, unknowing of the captiv'd chief,
Pompey prepares to march to his relief.
He means the fcattering forces to unite,
And with increase of ftrength expect the fight.
Refolving with the following fun to move,
First he decrees the foldier's heart to prove :
Then into words like thefe, rever'd, he broke,
The filent legions liftening while he spoke:
Ye brave avengers of your country's wrong,
You who to Rome and liberty belong;
Whofe breafts our fathers virtue truly warms,
Whofe hands the fenate's facred order arms;
With chearful ardor meet the coming fight,
And pray the gods to fmile upon the right.
Behold the mournful view Hefperia yields,
Her flaming villages and wafted fields !
See where the Gauls a dreadful deluge flow,
And fcorn the boundaries of Alpine fnow.
Already Cæfar's fword is ftain'd in blood,
Be that, ye gods, to us an omen good;
That glory ftill be his peculiar care,
Let him begin, while we fuftain the war.
Yet call it not a war to which we go;
We seek a malefactor, not a foe ;
Rome's awful injur'd majefty demands
The punishment of traitors at our hands.
If this be war, then war was wag'd of old,
By curft Cethegus, Catiline the bold,
By every villain's hand who durft confpire
In murder, robbery, or midnight fire.
Oh wretched rage thee, Cæfar, fate defign'd,
To rank amongst the patrons of mankind;
With brave Camillus to enrol thy fame,
And mix thee with the great Metelli's name :
While to the Cinna's thy fierce foul inclines,
And with the flaughter-loving Marii joins.
Since then thy crimes, like theirs, for justice call, 830
Beneath our axe's vengeance shalt thou fall :
Thee rebel Carbo's fentence, thee the fate
Of Lepidus and bold Sertorius wait.
Believe me yet, (if yet I am believ'd)
My heart is at the task unpleasing griev'd :
I mourn to think that Pompey's hand was chofe,
His Julia's hoftile father to oppose,
And mark thee down amongst the Roman foes.
Oh that, return'd in safety from the east,
This province victor Craffus had poffeft;
New honours to his name thou might'ft afford,
And die like Spartacus beneath his sword :
Like him have fall'n a victim to the laws,
The fame th' avenger, and the fame the cause.
But fince the gods do otherwife decree,
And give thee, as my latest palm, to me;
Again my veins confefs the fervent juice,
Nor has my hand forgot the javelin's use.
And thou shalt learn, that those who humbly know
To peace and juft authority to bow,
Can, when their country's caufe demands their care,
Refume their ardor, and return to war.
But let him think my former vigour fled;
Diftruft not, you, your general's hoary head
The marks of age and long declining years,
Which I your leader, his whole army wears:
Age ftill is fit to counfel, or command,
But falters in an unperforming hand.
Whate'er fuperior power a people free
Could to their fellow-citizen decree,
All lawful glories, have my fortunes known,
And reach'd all heights of greatness but a crown ;
Who to be more, than Pompey was, defires,
To kingly rule, and tyranny aspires.
Amidft my ranks, a venerable band,
The Confcript Fathers and the Confuls ftand.
And fhall the fenate and the vanquish'd state
Upon victorious Cæfar's triumph wait?
Forbid it, gods, in honour of mankind!
Fortune is not fo fhameless, nor fo blind.
What fame atchiev'd, what unexampled praife,
To thefe high hopes the daring hero raise ?
Is it his age of war, for trophies calls
His two whole years fpent on the rebel Gauls?
Is it the hoftile Rhine forfook with hafte ?
Is it the fhoaly channel which he past,
That Ocean huge he talks of? does he boaft
His flight on Britain's new-difcover'd coast?
Perhaps abandon'd Rome new pride fupplies,
He views the naked town with joyful eyes,
While from his rage an armed people flies.
But know, vain man, no Roman fled from thee;
They left their walls, 'tis true; but 'twas to follow me,
Me, who ere twice the moon her orb renew'd,
The pirates formidable fleet fubdued:
Soon as the fea my fhining enfigns bore,
Vanquish'd they fled, and fought the fafer fhore;
Humbly content their forfeit lives to fave,
And take the narrow lot my bounty gave.
By me the mighty Mithridates chac'd,
Through all the windings of his Pontus pafs'd.
He who the fate of Rome delay'd fo long,
While in fufpence uncertain empire hung;
He who to Sylla's fortune fcorn'd to yield,
To my prevailing arms refign'd the field :
Driven out at length, and prefs'd where-e'er he fled, He fought a grave to hide his vanquish'd head.
O'er the wide world my various trophies rife, any ed? Beneath the vast extent of distant skies;
Me the cold Bear, the northern climates know,
And Phafis' waters through my conquefts flow;
Armenia me, and lofty Taurus dread;
To me fubmit Cilicia's warlike powers,
And proud Sophene veils her wealthy towers:
The Jews I tam'd, who with religion bow
To fome myfterious name, which none befide them know.
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