Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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War (Civil.)
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
War (Civil.)
See Discord.
Lo! from the Earth the mild and gentle TrainOf Deities departs, and leaves Mankind
To sure and dreadful Desolation doom'd.
Peace leads the Way, and beats her snowy Arms,
Within her Helmet hides her vanquish'd Head,
And flies affrighted to th' Elysian Shades.
On her inviolable Faith attends,
And mournful Justice with dishevel'd Hair,
And Concord wailing, with her Garments torn.
But Hell, with Joy, unbolts it's brazen Doors,
And all it's Furies quit the Stygian Court:
Threat'ning Bellona with Erynnis joyns,
And dire Megæra arm'd with flaming Brands.
Pale Death, insidious Fraud, and Massacre,
With Rage burst forth, who, from his Fetters freed,
Lifts high his gory Head: a Helmet hides
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The Shield of Mars, horrid with countless Darts,
Whilst in his Right a flaming Torch appears,
To light Destruction, and to fire the World.—
Their ancient Friends, as now they nearer drew,
Prepar'd for Fight the wond'ring Soldiers knew:
Brother with Brother in unnat'ral Strife,
And the Son arm'd against the Father's Life.
Curst Civil-War! then Conscience first was felt,
And the tough Veteran's Heart began to melt.
Prepar'd for Fight the wond'ring Soldiers knew:
Brother with Brother in unnat'ral Strife,
And the Son arm'd against the Father's Life.
Curst Civil-War! then Conscience first was felt,
And the tough Veteran's Heart began to melt.
Pity awhile their Hands from Slaughter kept,
Inward they groan'd, and as they drew, they wept:
But ev'ry Blow their wav'ring Rage assures,
In Murder hardens, and to Blood inures.
Crowds charge on Crowds, nor Friends their Friends descry,
But Sires by Sons, and Sons by Fathers die.—
Dissembled Hate and Rancour rang'd at Will:
Inward they groan'd, and as they drew, they wept:
But ev'ry Blow their wav'ring Rage assures,
In Murder hardens, and to Blood inures.
Crowds charge on Crowds, nor Friends their Friends descry,
But Sires by Sons, and Sons by Fathers die.—
All, as they pleas'd, took Liberty to kill:
And while Revenge no longer fear'd the Laws,
Each private Murder was the public Cause.
The Leader bad destroy: and, at the Word,
The Master fell beneath the Servant's Sword.
Brothers on Brothers were for Gifts bestow'd,
And Sons contended for their Father's Blood.
For Refuge some to Caves and Forests fled:
Some to the lonely Mansions of the Dead:
Some, to prevent the cruel Victor, die:
These strangled hang from fatal Beams on high:
While those, from Tops of lofty Turrets thrown,
Came headlong on the dashing Pavement down.—
Now either Host the middle Plain had pass'd,
And Front to Front in threat'ning Ranks were plac'd:
Then ev'ry well known Feature stood to View,
Brothers their Brothers, Sons their Fathers knew.
Then first they feel the Curse of Civil Hate,
Mark where their Mischiefs are assign'd by Fate,
And see from whom themselves Destruction wait.
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While creeping Horror froze the lazy Blood:
Some small Remains of Piety withstand,
And stop the Javelin in the lifted Hand:
Remorse for one short Moment step'd between,
And motionless, as Statues, all were seen.—
Forbear such Wars, my Children, O forbear!
Nor sheath your dreaded Country's conqu'ring Swords
Within your Country's Bowels.—
These ruin'd Monuments are not defac'd
By all-destroying Time: that We behold
So many Cities, desolate, and waste,
Is owing to the Guilt of Civil War.
To what small Number now has that reduc'd
Mankind! not all our Offspring can suffice
To fill the Towns, or cultivate the Lands.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |