Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Pompey, flying to Ægypt, after his Defeat at Pharsalia, was by the King's Consent basely murder'd by Pothinus, and his Head presented to Cæsar, as he approach'd the Ægyptian Coast, in pursuit of his Enemy. The Poet having represented this Catastrophe in the two former Books; the Argument of the Tenth Book is as follows.

Cæsar lands in Ægypt. He goes to Alexandria; visits the Temple, and the Sepulchre of the Kings, in which Alexander the Great was buried. The Poet, in a beautiful Digression, declaims against the Ambition of that Monarch. Ptolemy the young King of Ægypt meets Cæsar at his Arrival, and receives him into his Palace. His Sister Cleopatra, who had been kept a Prisoner in Pharos, makes her Escape, and privately getting Admittance to Cæsar, implores his Protection. By his Means she is reconcil'd to her Brother; after which she entertains Cæsar at a Feast. The Supper being ended, Cæsar requests of Achoreus the Priest an Account of the Antiquities of Egypt, particularly of the River Nile. Achoreus's Reply. The Course of that River describ'd, with an Enumeration of the various Opinions concerning its Spring, and the Causes of its Overflowing. Pothinus plots the Death ofCæsar. His Message to Achillas to invite him to join in this attempt. Achillas marches against Alexandria with an Army compos'd of Ægyptians and Romans, and besieges Cæsar in the Palace, who seizes Ptolemy as a Pledge for his own Security. A Herald, sent from the King to enquire the Cause of this Tumult, is slain. An Attack being made, Cæsar defends himself, burns the Ægyptian Ships in the Harbour, and possesses himself of Pharos, where he puts Pothinus to death. Arsinoe, younger Sister of Ptolemey, by the Aid of Ganimede her Governor, arriving in the Camp, causes Achillas to be slain. Ganimede renews the Attack against Cæsar, who is block'd up in Pharos, and reduc'd to the greatest Extremity.

When conqu'ring Cæsar follow'd to the Land
His Rival's Head, and trod the barbarous Strand,
His Fortune strove with guilty Ægypt's Fate
In doubtful Fight, and this the dire Debate;
Shall Roman Arms great Lagus' Realm enthrall?
Or shall the Victor, like the Vanquish'd, fall
By Ægypt's Sword? Pompey, thy Ghost withstood
Th'impending Blow, and sav'd the Gen'ral's Blood,

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Lest Rome, too happy after Loss of thee,
Shou'd rule the Nile, her self from Bondage free.

Secure, and with this barbarous Pledge content,
To Alexandria now the Conqu'ror went.
The Croud that saw his Entry, while, before,
Advancing Guards the Rods of Empire bore,
In murmur'd Sounds their jealous Rage disclos'd,
At Roman Rites and foreign Law impos'd.
Observing Cæsar soon his Error spy'd,
That not for him his mighty Rival dy'd,
Yet smooth'd his Brow, all Marks of Fear suppress'd,
And hid his Cares, deep bury'd in his Breast.

Then with intrepid Mien he took his Way,
The City Walls and Temples to survey,
Works which thy ancient Pow'r, great Macedon, display.
He view'd the splendid Fanes with careless Eyes,
Shrines rich with Gold and sacred Mysteries,
Nor fix'd his Sight, but, eager in his Pace,
Descends the Vault, which holds the Royal Race.
Philip's mad Son, the Prosp'rous Robber, bound
In Fate's eternal Chains, here sleeps profound,
Whom Death forbad his Rapines to pursue,
And in the World's Revenge the Monster slew.
His impious Bones, which thro' each Climate tost,
The Sport of Winds, or in the Ocean lost,

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Had met a juster Fate, this Tomb obtain'd,
And Sacred, to that Kingdom's End, remain'd.
O! shou'd auspicious Years roll round again,
And Godlike Liberty resume her Reign,
Preserv'd to Scorn the Reliques wou'd be shown
Of the bold Chief, whose boundless Pride alone
This curst Example to Ambition gave,
How many Realms One Mortal can enslave!

Disdaining what his Father won before,
Aspiring still, and restless after more,
He left his Home; while Fortune smooth'd his Way,
And o'er the fruitful East enlarg'd his Sway.
Red Slaughter mark'd his Progress, as he past;
The guilty Sword laid Human Nature waste,
Discolour'd Ganges', and Euphrates' Flood,
With Persian This, and That with Indian Blood.
He seem'd in Terror to the Nations sent,
The Wrath of Heav'n, a Star of dire Portent,
And shook, like Thunder, all the Continent!

Nor yet content, a Navy he provides,
To Seas remote his Triumphs now he guides,
Nor Winds nor Waves his Progress cou'd withstand;
Nor Libya's scorching Heat, and desart Land,
Nor rolling Mountains of collected Sand.
Had Heav'n but giv'n him Line, he had outrun
The farthest Journey of the Setting Sun,

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March'd round the Poles, and drank discover'd Nile
At his Spring-Head—But winged Fate the while
Comes on with Speed, the Fun'ral Hour draws near;
Death only cou'd arrest his mad Career,
Who to his Grave the World's Sole Empire bore,
With the same Envy 'twas acquir'd before;
And, wanting a Successor to his Reign,
Left all to suffer Conquest once again.

Yet Babylon first yielded to his Arms,
And Parthia trembled at his proud Alarms.
Oh Shame to tell! cou'd haughty Parthia fear
The Græcian Dart, and not the Roman Spear?
What tho' the North, and South, and West are ours,
Th'unconquer'd East defies our feeble Pow'rs,
So fatal once to Rome's great Crassi known,
A Province now to Pella's puny Town.

Now from Pelusium, where expanding wide
Nile pours into the Sea his ample Tide,
Came the Boy-King; His Presence soon appeas'd
The People's Rage, and giddy Tumult ceas'd.
In Ægypt's Palace, Cæsar sleeps Secure;
This Princely Hostage does awhile ensure
His Terms of Peace; when lo! the Sister-Queen,
In a small Boat conceal'd, securely mean,
With Gold corrupts the Keeper of the Port,
And undiscover'd lands, and lurks within the Court.

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The Royal Whore! her Country's worst Disgrace,
The Fate and Fury of the Roman Race!
As Helen's soft incendiary Charms
Provok'd the Græcian and the Trojan Arms,
No less did Cleopatra's Eyes inspire
Italian Flames, and spread the kindled Fire.
A Rabble Rout, a vile enervate Band
Presum'd th'Imperial Eagles to withstand;
Canopus march'd, a Woman at their Head,
And then, if ever Rome knew aught of Dread,
E'en mighty Rome with Terror heard the Jar
Of clatter'd Cymbals tinkling to the War,
And shook her lofty Tow'rs, and trembled from afar.
What Triumphs had proud Alexandria seen,
Had great Octavius then a Captive been,
When hov'ring Vict'ry, at Leucate's Bay,
Hung on her Wings, and 'twas a Strife that Day,
If the lost World a Distaff shou'd obey.
From that curst Night this daring Hope arose,
That shameful Night, the Source of future Woes,
Which first commenc'd polluted Loves, between
A Roman Gen'ral and Ægyptian Queen.
O who can Anthony's wild Passion blame?
E'en Cæsar's flinty Heart confess'd the soft'ning Flame!
The foul Adult'rer, reeking with the Stains
Of impious Slaughter on Thessalian Plains,

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Unwash'd from Blood, amidst the Rage of War
In Joys obscene forgets his cruel Care.
Tho' Pompey's Ghost yet haunt those barbarous Walls,
And howling in his Ears for Vengeance calls,
Secure in Guilt, he hugs a Harlot's Charms,
And mingles lawless Love with lawless Arms,
Nor mindful of his chaster Progeny,
A Bastard-Brother, Julia, gives to thee.
His rallying Foes on Libyan Plains rejoin;
Luxurious Cæsar, shamefully Supine,
Forgoes his Gains, and for a Kiss or Smile
Sells the dear Purchase of his martial Toil.

Him Cleopatra sought t'espouse her Care;
Presuming of her Charms, the mournful Fair
In wild Disorder loos'd her lovely Hair,
And, with a Face inviting sure Relief,
In tender Accents thus disclos'd her Grief:

Great Cæsar, look! of Lagus' Royal Race,
So thou restore me to my rightful Place,
I kneel a Queen. Expell'd my Father's Throne,
My Hope of Succour is in You alone.
You rise a prosp'rous Star to Ægypt's Aid;
Oh shine propitious on an injur'd Maid!
My Sex has oft the Pharian Scepter sway'd,
For so the Laws admit. Let Cæsar read
Our Parent's Will; my Brother's Crown and Bed

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Are mine to share, and were the Youth but free
From saucy Tutors, he wou'd marry me.
But by Pothinus' Nod his Passions move,
Pothinus wields his Sword, and manages his Love.
Forbid that Crime; I freely quit my Claim,
But save from such Reproach our House and Name.
Rescue the Royal Boy from mean Command,
Restore the Scepter to his trembling Hand,
This vile Domestick's lawless Pride restrain,
Remove the Traitor-Guard, and teach the King to reign.
Th'imperious Slave, who kill'd great Cæsar's Foe,
Inur'd to Blood wou'd murder Cæsar too,
But far, far hence, ye Gods, avert the threatned Blow!
Let Pompey's Head suffice Pothinus' Fame,
Nor let a nobler Death increase our Shame!

Here paus'd the Queen, and spoke in Looks the rest;
Not Words alone cou'd move his savage Breast;
Her Eyes enforce her Pray'rs; soft Beauty pleads
And brib'd the Judge; a Night of Guilt succeeds.
Then soon for Peace th'affrighted Brother sought,
And with rich Gifts his Reconcilement bought.

Affairs united thus, the Court ordains
A solemn Feast, where Joy tumultuous reigns.
Here Cleopatra's Genius first was shown,
And Arts till then to frugal Rome unknown.

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The Hall a Temple seem'd; corrupter Days
Scarce to the Gods wou'd such a Structure raise.
Rich was the fretted Roof, and cover'd o'er
With pond'rous Gold; all Onyx was the Floor.
Nor Marble Plates alone the Walls incas'd,
Beauteous to Sight, and all th'Apartment grac'd,
But solid Pillars of thick Agate stood,
And Ebony supply'd for common Wood.
Iv'ry the Doors, with Indian Tortoise seen
Inlaid, and studded Emerald between.
The Beds too shone, profuse of Gems, on high,
Their Cov'rings Tyrian Silk, of double Dye,
Embroider'd part with Gold, with Scarlet part,
A curious Mixture of Ægyptian Art.

And now the Croud of menial Slaves appears,
Of various Skin, and Size, and various Years.
Some, swarthy Africans with frizled Hair;
Black Æthiops these; and those, like Germans, fair,
With yellow Locks, which, Cæsar owns, outshine
In Colour e'en the Natives of the Rhine;
Beside th'unhappy Youth by Steel unmann'd,
And soften'd from their Sex, a beardless Band;
An abler Train was rang'd in adverse Rows,
Yet scarce their Cheeks did the first Down disclose.

The Princes took their Seats; amid the rest
Sat lordly Cæsar, their superior Guest.

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Proud Cleopatra, not content alone
T'enjoy a Brother-Spouse, and share his Throne,
Had stain'd her Cheeks, and arm'd with artful Care
Her fatal Eyes, new Conquest to prepare;
Bright Jewels grac'd her Neck, and sparkled in her Hair.
O'ercharg'd with Spoils which the Red-Sea supply'd,
Scarce can She move beneath the pond'rous Pride.
Sidonian Silk her snowy Breasts array'd,
Which thro' the Net-work Veil a thousand Charms display'd.
Here might be seen large Oval Tables, wrought
Of Citron from Atlantick Forests brought,
Their Tressels Iv'ry; not so rich a Sort
Was Cæsar's Prize in vanquish'd Juba's Court.
Blind Ostentatious Madness! to display
Your Wealth, to whom e'en Civil War's a Play,
And tempt an armed Guest to seize the Prey!
Grant Riches not the Purpose of his Toil,
Nor with rapacious Arms to hunt for Spoil,
Think him a Heroe of that chaster Time,
When Poverty was Praise, and Gold a Crime;
Suppose Fabricius present at the Show,
Or the rough Consul chosen from the Plough,
Or virtuous Curius; each wou'd wish to come
With such a Triumph back to wond'ring Rome.

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What Earth and Air, the Sea and Nile afford,
In Golden Vessels heaps the plenteous Board;
Whate'er ambitious Luxury cou'd find
Thro' the search'd Globe, and more than Want enjoin'd;
Herds of Ægyptian Gods, and Fowl of various Kind.
In Crystal Ew'rs Nilus supplies around
His purest Streams; vast glitt'ring Bowls abound
With Wine from Meroe's Isle, whose noble Age
Fermenting, sparkles with ungovern'd Rage:
With twisted Wreaths, which fragrant Flow'rs compose,
Delightful Nard, and ever-blooming Rose,
They crown their Brows; and strow their oily Hair
With Spice from neighb'ring Fields, not yet expir'd in Air.
Here Cæsar learns the fruitful World to drain,
While conscious Thoughts his secret Soul arraign;
Blushing he inward mourns the dire Debate
With his poor Son, but mourns, alas! too late,
And longs for War with Ægypt's wealthy State.

At length, the Tumult of the Banquet o'er,
When sated Luxury requir'd no more,
Cæsar protracts the silent Hours of Night,
And, turning to Achoreus cloth'd in white,
High on a lofty Couch—Say, holy Seer!
Whose hoary Age thy Guardian Gods revere,

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Devoted to their Rites! wilt thou relate
The Rise and Progress of the Pharian State?
Describe the Land's Extent, what Humours sway
The Peoples Minds, and to what Pow'rs you pray,
What Customs keep, and what Devotion pay.
Whate'er your ancient Monuments contain,
Produce to Light, and willing Gods explain.
If Plato once obtain'd a like Request,
To whom your Sires their mystick Rites confest,
This let me boast, perhaps you have not here
A meaner Guest, or less judicious Ear.
Fame of my Rival led me first, 'tis true,
To Ægypt's Coast, yet join'd with Fame of You.
I still had vacant Hours amidst my Wars,
To read the Heav'ns, and to review the Stars;
Henceforth all Calendars must yield to mine,
And e'en Eudoxus shall the Palm resign.
But more than all, the Love of Truth, which fires
My glowing Breast, an ardent Wish inspires
To learn, what num'rous Ages ne'er cou'd know,
Your River's Source, and Causes of its Flow.
Indulge my Hope Nile's secret Birth to view,
No more in Arms I'll civil Strife pursue.

He paus'd; when thus Achoreus made Reply;
Ye rev'rend Shades of our great Ancestry!

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While I to Cæsar Nature's Works explain,
And open Stores yet hid from Eyes profane,
Be it no Crime your Secrets to reveal!
Let others hold it pious to conceal
Such mighty Truths. I think the Gods design'd
Works such as these to pass all human Kind,
And teach the wondring World their Laws and heav'nly Mind.

At Nature's Birth, a various Pow'r was given
To various Stars, that cross the Poles of Heav'n,
And slack the rolling Sphere. With Sov'reign Rays
The Sun divides the Months, the Nights, the Days;
Fix'd in his Orb the wandring Course restrains
Of other Stars, and the great Dance ordains.
The changeful Moon intends th'alternate Tides.
Saturn o'er Ice and snowy Zones presides;
Mars rules the Winds, and the wing'd Thunder guides.
Jove's is a Sky serene and temp'rate Air;
The Seeds of Life are Venus' kindly Care.
O'er spreading Streams, Cyllenius, is thy Reign:
And when that Part of Heav'n thou dost attain,
Where Cancer with the Lion mingles Rays,
And Sirius all his fiery Rage displays,
Beneath whose hot Survey, deep in his Bed
Obscure from Sight, old Nilus veils his Head;

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When thou from thence, in thy cœlestial Course,
Ruler of Floods, dost strike the River's Source,
The conscious Streams break out, and flowing soon
Obey thy Call, as Ocean does the Moon;
Nor check their Tide, till Night has from the Sun
Regain'd those Hours th'advancing Summer won.

Vain was the Faith of old, that melted Snow
From Æthiopian Hills produc'd this Flow;
For let the Natives Sun-burnt Skins declare,
That no bleak North breathes wintry Tempests there,
But Vapours from the South possess the parching Air.
Besides, such Torrents as by Snows increase,
Begin to swell when Spring does first release
Those wint'ry Stores; Nile ne'er provokes his Streams,
Till the hot Dog-Star shoot his angry Beams;
Nor then resumes his Banks, till Libra weighs
In equal Scale the measur'd Nights and Days.
Hence He the Laws of other Streams declines,
Nor flows in Winter, when at distance shines
The moderate Sun; commanded to repair
In Summer's Heat, to cool th'intemp'rate Air.
When scorch'd Siene feels her Cancer's Fire,
Then lest the World, consum'd in Flame, expire,
Nile to its Aid his wat'ry Forces draws,
And swells against the Lion's burning Jaws,

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Moist'ning the Plains, till Phœbus late descends
To Autumn's cooler Couch, and Meroe's Shade extends.
Who can the Cause of such great Changes read?
E'en so our Parent Nature had decreed
Nile's constant Course, and so the World has need.

As vainly too Antiquity apply'd
Th'Etesian Winds to raise this wondrous Tide,
Which blow at stated Seasons of the Year
For several Days, and long possess the Air;
Or thought vast Clouds, which driv'n before them fly
Beyond the South, discharg'd the burden'd Sky
On Nilus' Head, and thence his Current swell'd;
Or that those Winds the River's Course repell'd,
Which stopp'd, and press'd by th'entring Sea, disdains
His Banks, and issuing boils along the Plains.

Some think vast Pores, and Gaps in Earth abound,
Where Streams in silent Veins creep under Ground,
Led from the chilling North, the Line to meet,
When pointed Beams direct on Meroe beat,
While the parch'd Earth a watry Succour craves;
Then Po and Ganges roll their smother'd Waves
Deep thro' the Vaults beneath; and Nile supply'd
Discharges at One Vent their mingled Tide,
Nor can the gather'd Flood in One straight Channel ride.

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Some think the Sea, which round all Lands extends
His liquid Arms, these gushing Waters sends;
That Length of Course the Saltness wears away;
Or thus; since Phœbus and the Stars, we say,
Drink Ocean's Streams; when, near hot Cancer's Claws,
The thirsty Sun a larger Portion draws,
That more than Air digests, attracted so,
Falls back by Night, and causes Nile to flow.

Might I in so perplex'd a Cause engage,
I think, since Nature grew mature in Age,
Some Waters, Cæsar, have deriv'd their Birth
From Veins by strong Convulsions broke in Earth;
And some coæval with the World began,
And starting thro' appointed Channels ran,
When this whole Frame th'Almighty Builder rear'd,
Ordain'd its Laws, and its first Motions steer'd.

The Kings of Greece, of Ægypt, and the East,
Ardent like You, were with this Wish possest,
And ev'ry Age has labour'd to attain
The wondrous Truth, but labour'd still in vain,
For Nature lurks obscure, and mocks their Pain.
Philip's great Son, whose consecrated Name
Memphis adores, the first in Regal Fame,
Envious of this, detach'd a chosen Band
To range th'Extreme of Æthiopa's Land;

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They pass the scorching Soil, and only view
Where hotter Streams their constant Way pursue.
The farthest West our great Sesostris saw,
While harness'd Kings his lofty Chariot draw,
Yet drank your Rhodanus and Padus first
At both their Springs, ere Nile obey'd his Thirst.
Cambyses, mad with Lust of Pow'r t'o'er-run
The long-liv'd Nations of the rising Sun,
To promis'd Spoils a num'rous Army led;
His famish'd Soldiers on each other fed,
Exhausted he return'd, nor saw great Nilus' Head:
Nor boasting Fame pretends to make it known;
Where'er thou flow'st, thy Spring's possest by none,
And not One Land can call thee, Nile, her own.
Yet what the God, who did thy Birth conceal,
Has giv'n to know, to Cæsar I'll reveal.

First from the Southern Pole thy Stream we trace,
Which rolling forward with a speedy Pace,
Under hot Cancer is directly driv'n
Against Bootes' Wain, far in the North of Heav'n.

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Yet winding in thy Course from East to West,
Arabia now, now Libya's Sands are blest
With thy cool Flood; which first the Seres spy,
Yet seek thee too; thy Current, rolling by,
Thro' Æthiopia next, a Stranger, flows.
Nor can the World perceive to whom it owes
Thy sacred Birth, which Nature hid from all,
Lest any Nation shou'd behold thee small,
And, cov'ring deep thy Infant Head, requir'd
That None shou'd find what is by All admir'd.

Thou, by a Law to other Streams unknown,
In Summer's Solstice o'er thy Banks art thrown,
And bring'st in thy full Tide a Winter of thy own.
To thee alone 'tis giv'n thy Waves to roll
Athwart the Globe, enlarg'd to either Pole;
These Nations seek thy Fountain, those wou'd trace
Thy Gulph. With spacious Arms thou dost embrace
Hot Meroe, fruitful to a sooty Race,
And proud of Ebon Woods; yet no Retreat
Their useless Shades afford to shun th'excessive Heat.
Then thro' the Regions of the scorching Sun,
Not lessen'd by his Thirst, thy Waters run.
O'er barren Sands they take a tedious Course,
Now rolling in one Tide their gather'd Force;
Now wandring in their way, and sprinkled round,
O'er yielding Banks thy wanton Billows bound.

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Thy Channel here its scatter'd Troops regains,
Between th'Ægyptian and Arabian Plains,
Where Philas bounds the Realm; with easy Pace
Thy slipp'ry Waves thro' Desarts cut their Race,
Where Nature by a Tract of Land divides
Our Sea, distinguish'd from the Red-Sea's Tides.
Who that beholds thee here so gently flow,
Wou'd think thou ever cou'dst tempestuous grow?
But when o'er rugged Cliffs and Ways unev'n
In steepy Cataracts thou'rt headlong driv'n,
Thy rushing Waves resisted, fiercer fly,
And batter'd Froth rebounding fills the Sky.
The Hills remurmur with the dashing Sound,
Thy Billows ride triumphant far around,
And rear their conqu'ring Heads with hoary Honours crown'd.
Hence shaken Abatos first feels thy Rage,
And Rocks, which in our great Forefathers Age
Were call'd the River's Veins; because they show
His first Increase, and Symptoms of his Flow.
Vast Piles of Mountains here encompass wide
His Streams, to Libya's thirsty Land deny'd,
Which thus inclos'd in a deep Valley glide.
At Memphis first he sees the open Plains,
Then flows at large, and his low Banks disdains.

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While thus Secure, as if no Danger nigh,
Till Night's black Steeds had travell'd half the Sky,
They pass the Hours of Rest, Pothinus' Mind
From brooding Mischief can no Leisure find.
Season'd in Sacred Blood, what Crime can scare
The Wretch, that late cou'd such a Murder dare?
Great Pompey's Ghost dwells in his Breast, t'inspire
New Monsters there; and Furies add their Fire.
He hopes ignoble Hands shall wear those Stains,
Which Heav'n for injur'd Roman Chiefs ordains,
And that blind Fortune to a Slave that Day,
The Senate's Vengeance shou'd bequeath away,
The Debt for Civil War, which Cæsar once shall pay.
But oh! Ye righteous Pow'rs exert your Care!
The guilty Life in Brutus' Absence spare!
Nor let vile Ægypt, Rome's great Justice boast,
And this Example to the World be lost!

Vain is th'Attempt; yet, scorning secret Snares,
Steel'd by his Crimes, the desp'rate Villain dares,
With open War th'unconquer'd Chief provoke,
And dooms his Head already to the Stroke,
Designs to bid the slaughter'd Father go,
And seek his Son in dreary Shades below.
Yet first he sends a trusty Slave, to bear
This hasty Message to Achillas' Ear,

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His Partner-Ruffian in great Pompey's Fall,
Whom the weak King had made his General,
And, thoughtless of his own Defence, resign'd
A Pow'r against himself and all Mankind.

Go, Sluggard, to thy Bed of Down, and steep
Thy heavy Eyelids in luxurious Sleep!
While Cleopatra does the Court invade,
And Pharos is not privately betray'd,
But giv'n away; dost thou alone forbear
To grace the Nuptials of thy Mistress here?
Th'incestuous Sister shall her Brother wed,
Ally'd already to the Roman's Bed,
And sharing both by turns; Ægypt's her Hire,
Already paid, and Rome she may require.
Cou'd Cleopatra's Sorceries decoy
E'en Cæsar's Age, and shall we trust a Boy?
Whom if one Night she fold within her Arms,
Drunk with lewd Joys, and fascinating Charms,
Whatever pious Name the Crime allay,
Between each Kiss, He'll give our Heads away,
And we by Racks or Flames must for her Beauty pay.
In this Distress Fate no Relief allows;
Cæsar's her Lover, and the King her Spouse;
And She herself, no doubt, the Doom has past
On us, and all who wou'd have left her chast.

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But by the Deed which we together shar'd,
In vain, if not by new Attempts repair'd,
By that strict League a Hero's Blood has bound,
Bring speedy War, and all their Joys confound.
Rush boldly on; with Slaughter let us stain
Their Nuptial Torch; the cruel Bride be slain
E'en in her Bed, and which soe'er supplies
In present turn the Husband's Place, he dies.
Nor Cæsar's Name our Purpose shall appall;
Fortune's the common Mistress of us all,
And She, that lifts him now above Mankind,
Courted by us, may be to us as kind.
We share his brightest Glory, and are great
By Pompey's Death, as He by his Defeat.
Look on the Shore, and read good Omens there,
And ask the bloody Waves what we may dare.
Behold what Tomb the wretched Trunk supplies,
Half hid in Sand, half naked to the Skies!
Yet this was Cæsar's Equal whom we slew.
And doubt we then new Glory to pursue?
Grant that our Birth's obscure; yet, shall we need
Kings or rich States confed'rate to the Deed?
No, Fate's our own, and Fortune in our way,
Without our Toil, presents a nobler Prey;
Appease we now the Romans while we may!

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This second Victim shall their Rage remove
For Pompey's Death, and turn their Hate to Love.
Nor dread we mighty Names, which Slaves adore;
Stripp'd of his Army what's this Soldier more
Than Thou or I?—to-night then let us end
His Civil Wars; to-night the Fates shall send
A Sacrifice to Troops of Ghosts below,
And pay that Head, which to the World they owe.
At Cæsar's Throat let the fierce Soldiers fly,
And Ægypt's Youth with Rome's their Force apply,
Those for their King, and these for Liberty.
No more, but haste, and take the Foe Supine,
Prepar'd for Lust, and gorg'd with Food and Wine.
Be bold, and think the Gods to thee commend
The Cause, which Brutus' Pray'rs and Cato's will defend.

To Mischief swift, Achillas soon obey'd
This Summons, yet his sudden March betray'd
By no loud Signal, nor the Trumpet's Jar:
In silent Haste he lead a barb'rous Train of War.
Degen'rate Crouds of Romans fill his Bands,
So lost in Vice, so chang'd in foreign Lands,
That they, who shou'd have scorn'd the King's Commands,
Forgetful of their Country and their Fame,
Under a vile Domestick's Conduct came.

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No Faith, no Honour can the Herd restrain,
That follow Camps, and fight for sordid Gain;
Like Ruffians brib'd they ne'er the Cause enquire,
That Side's the Just, which gives the largest Hire.
If by your Swords proud Cæsar were to bleed,
Strike for your selves, Ye Slaves! nor sell the Deed!
Oh wretched Rome! where'er thy Eagle flies,
New Civil Wars, new Fury will arise;
E'en on Nile's Banks, far from Thessalian Plains,
Amidst thy Troops their Country's Madness reigns.
What more cou'd the bold House of Lagus dare,
Had Pompey found a just Protection there?
No Roman Hand's exempt, but each must spill
His Share of Blood, and Heav'n's Decrees fulfil.
Such vengeful Plagues it pleas'd the Gods to send,
And with such num'rous Wounds the Latian State to rend.

Not for the Son or Father now they fight;
A base-born Slave can Civil Arms excite,
Achillas mingles in the Roman Strife;
And, had not Fate protected Cæsar's Life,
These had prevail'd; each Villain ready stood,
This waits without, and that within, for Blood.
The Court, dissolv'd in Feasting, open lay
To treach'rous Snares, a careless easy Prey.
Then o'er the Royal Cups had Cæsar bled,
And on the Board had fall'n his sever'd Head,

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But lest, amid the Darkness of the Night,
Their Swords unconscious, in the huddled Fight,
Might slay the King, the Slaves awhile took Breath,
And slipp'd th'important Hour of Cæsar's Death.
They thought to make him soon the Loss repay,
And fall a Sacrifice in open Day.
One Night is giv'n him; by Pothinus' Grace
He sees the Sun once more renew his Race.

Now the fair Morning-Star began to show
The Sign of Day from Cassia's lofty Brow,
And e'en the Dawn made Sultry Ægypt glow.
When from afar the marching Troops appear,
Not in loose Squadrons scatter'd here and there,
But one broad Front of War, as if that Day
To meet an equal Force, and fight in just Array.
While Cæsar thinks not the Town-Walls Secure,
He bars the Palace-Gates, compell'd t'endure
Th'inglorious Siege, and in a Corner hide
Inclos'd, nor dares to the whole Court confide.
In haste he arms his Friends; his anxious Breast,
Now fir'd with Fury, now with Doubt deprest,
Much fears th'Assault, yet more that Fear disdains;
So when some gen'rous Savage, bound with Chains,
Is shut within his Den, he howls with Rage,
And breaks his Teeth against the massy Cage:

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And thus, if by new Weight of Hills impos'd
Sicilian Ætna's breathing Jaws were clos'd,
E'en thus th'imprison'd God of Fire wou'd rave,
And drive his Flames rebellowing round the Cave.
Behold the Man, who lately scorn'd to dread
The Senate's Army to just Battle led,
The Flow'r of Roman Lords, and Pompey at their Head,
Who, in a Cause forbidding Hope, cou'd trust
That Providence for Him shou'd prove unjust,
Behold him now Opprest, forlorn of Aid,
Driv'n to a House, and of a Slave afraid!
He, whom rough Scythians had not dar'd abuse,
Nor savage Moors, who barbarously use
In Sport, to try inhospitable Arts
On Strangers bound, their living Mark for Darts;
Tho' Rome's extended World, tho' India join'd
With Tyrian Gades seems a Realm confin'd,
A Space too scanty to his vaster Mind,
Now, like a Boy or tender Maid, he flies,
When sudden Arms th'invaded Works surprize;
He traverses the Court, each Room explores,
His Hope is all in Bars and bolted Doors.
Yet doubtful while he wanders here and there,
He leads the Captive King his Fate to share,
Or expiate that Death the Slaves for Him prepare.

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If Darts or missive Flames shall fail, he'll throw
Their Sov'reign's Head against th'advancing Foe.
So, when Medea fled her native Clime,
And fear'd just Vengeance on her impious Crime,
With ready Steel the cruel Sorceress stood,
To greet her Father with her Brother's Blood,
Prepar'd his Head, to stop, with dire Affright,
A Parent's Speed, and to assure her Flight.

Yet Cæsar, that unequal Arms might cease,
Suspends his Fury, and essays a Peace.
A Herald from the King is sent, t'assuage
His Rebel Servants, and upbraid their Rage,
And in their absent Tyrant's Name t'enquire
The secret Author of this kindled Fire.
But scornful of Reproach, th'audacious Crew
The sacred Laws of Nations overthrew,
And for his Speech the Royal Envoy slew.
Inhuman Deed! that swells the guilty Score
Of Ægypt's Monsters, well increas'd before.
Not Thessaly, not Juba's savage Train,
Pharnaces' impious Troops, not cruel Spain,
Nor Pontus, nor the Syrtes' barb'rous Land,
Dar'd an Attempt like this voluptuous Band.

Th'Attack is form'd, the Palace closely pent;
Huge Jav'lins to the shaken Walls are sent,

215

A Storm of flying Spears; yet from below
No batt'ring Rams resistless drive their Blow,
No Engine's brought, no Fires; the giddy Croud
In Parties roam, and with brute Clamours loud,
In several Bands their wasted Strength divide,
And here and there to force an Entrance try'd;
In vain, for Fortune fights on Cæsar's Side.

Then, where the Palace 'midst surrounding Waves
Projects luxuriant, and their Fury braves,
The Ships too their united Force apply,
And swiftly hurl the Naval War on high.
Yet present ev'ry where with Sword or Fire,
Cæsar th'Approaches guards, and makes the Foes retire.
To all by turns he brings successful Aids,
Inverts the War, and, tho' besieg'd, invades.
Fireballs, and Torches drest with unctuous Spoil
Of Tar combustible, and frying Oil,
Kindled he launch'd against the Fleet; nor slow
The catching Flames invest the smould'ring Tow.
The pitchy Planks their crackling Prey become;
The painted Sterns, and Rowers Seats consume.
There, Hulks half-burnt sink in the Main; and here,
Arms on the Waves and drowning Men appear.

Nor thus suffic'd, the Flames from thence aspire,
And seize the Buildings with contagious Fire.

216

Swift o'er the Roofs, by Winds increas'd, they fly;
So shooting Meteors blaze along the Sky,
And lead their wand'ring Course with sudden Glare,
By sulph'rous Atoms fed in Fields of thinnest Air.

Affrighted Crouds the growing Ruin view;
To save the City from the Siege they flew,
When Cæsar, wont the lucky Hour to chuse
Of sudden Chance in War, and wisely use,
Lost not in slothful Rest the fav'ring Night,
But shipp'd his Men, and sudden took his Flight.
Pharos he seiz'd, an Island heretofore,
When Prophet Proteus Ægypt's Scepter bore,
Now by a Chain of Moles contiguous to the Shore.
Here Cæsar's Arms a double Use obtain;
Hence from the straiten'd Foe he bars the Main,
While to his Friends th'important Harbour lies
A safe Retreat, and open to Supplies.
Nor longer now the Doom suspended stands,
Which Justice on Pothinus' Guilt demands.
Yet not as Guilt, unmatch'd like his, requires,
Not by the shameful Cross, or torturing Fires,
Nor torn by rav'nous Beasts the howling Wretch expires.
The Sword dishonour'd did his Head divide,
And by a Fate like Rome's best Son he dy'd.

217

Arsinoe now, by well-concerted Snares
'Scap'd from the Palace, to the Foe repairs;
The trusty Ganymede assists her Flight.
Then o'er the Camp she claim'd a Sov'reign's Right;
Her Brother absent, she assumes the Sword,
And frees the Tyrant from his Houshold Lord;
By her just Hand Achillas meets his Fate,
Rebel accurs'd! in Blood and Mischief great!
Another Victim, Pompey, to thy Shade;
But think not yet the full Atonement made,
Tho' Ægypt's King, tho' all the Royal Line
Shou'd fall, thy murmuring Ghost wou'd still repine,
Still unreveng'd thy Murder wou'd remain,
Till Cæsar's purple Life the Senate's Swords shall stain.

Nor does the Swelling Tempest yet subside.
The Chief remov'd that did its Fury guide,
To the same Charge bold Ganymede succeeds,
Prosp'rous awhile in many hardy Deeds.
So long th'Event of War in Balance lay,
So great the Dangers of that doubtful Day,
That Cæsar from that Day alone might claim
Immortal Wreaths, and all the Warrior's Fame.

Now while to quit the straiten'd Mole he strove,
And to the vacant Ships the Fight remove,
War's utmost Terrors press on ev'ry side;
Before the Strand besieging Navies ride;

218

Behind, the Troops advance. No way is seen
T'escape, or scarce a glorious Death to win.
No room with slaughter'd Foes to strew the Plain,
And bravely fall amidst a Pile of Slain.
A Captive to the Place he now appears,
Doubtful if Death shou'd move his Hope, or Fears.
In this Distress a sudden Thought inspir'd
His hardy Breast, by great Examples fir'd;
Bold Scæva's Action he to Mind recalls,
And Glory won near fam'd Dyrrachium's Walls;
Where, whilst his Men a doubtful Fight maintain,
And Pompey strove the batter'd Works to gain,
Amidst a Field of Foes, that hemm'd him round,
Alone the brave Centurion kept his Ground.

[OMITTED]

Here the Original Poem breaks off abruptly, having been left unfinish'd by the Author.

If the Reader is curious to know the Source of the Nile, he may consult Peter Pais's Account of it in the Description of Africa by Dr. Olphert Dappert, and Father Telles the Jesuit in his History of Æthiopia; or Monsieur Le Bruyn's Voyage to the Levant, printed for Jacob Tonson, 1702, p. 161, where the Accounts of both these Authors are quoted at large, and compared.