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123

The Fifth Book.

The Argument.

Flaminius rash Valour at the Lake
Of Thrasimenus. The Sidonians take
The Hills, for Ambush: Prodigies foreshow,
Before the Fight, the Roman's Overthrow.
Both Armies (while an Earthquake overthrew
Cities, and Rivers turn'd) the Fight pursue.
But the Sicilian Troops, that basely fly
The Field: and climb the Trees for Safety, dy,
Together, by Sichæus, whose sad Fall
(Soon after by Flaminius slain) by all
The Libyans is bewail'd. Stout Appius kill'd
By Mago, whom he wounds; what Slaughters fill'd
All Quarters: how Flaminius bravely dy'd;
Whose Corps the Romanes, slain about him, hide.
Now Hannibal, preparing for the Fight,
With secret Ambush, in the dead of Night,
The Mountains of Hetraria did invest,
And all the Passes of the Woods possest.
On the Left Hand, there was a Lake, that swell'd
Like a vast Sea, and all the Neighb'ring Field,
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O're-flowing, cover'd with tenacious Slime.
Here Faun-got Aunus reign'd, in Antient time;
But, now, 'tis known by Thrasimenus Name,
Whose Sire Tyrrhenus (Lydian Tmolus Fame)
To the Italian Coasts, that since do bear
His Name, Mæonian Colonies, from far,
By Sea did bring; and is by all Renown'd,
For having taught those Nations, first, to sound
The Trumpet, and their Silence broke in Fight.
Yet, not content with this, he doth excite
His Son to greater things; But, fir'd with Love
Of the fair Boy (who with the Gods above,
For Beauty, might compare) now, Chaste no more,
Agylle snatch'd him, walking on the Shore,
Into the Stream. This Nymph's Lascivious Minde
Was still to Love of beauteous Boys inclin'd,
And the Italian Darts soon warm'd her Breast;
But him the carefull Naïades carest
Within their mossy Caves: while He the Place
Abhors, and seeks to shun their fond Embrace.
From hence the Lake, a Dowry to his Fame,
Still conscious of his Rape, retains his Name.
And, now, the Chariot of the Dewy Night,
Its Bounds approach'd; although the Morn her Light,
Not yet from her bright Chambers did display,
But, from the Threshold onely, breath'd a Ray;
And Men could less affirm, that Night had run
Her Course, then that the Day its Race begun:
When, through by-Ways, the Consul March'd before
His Ensigns; after Him, the Horse, (no more
In Order) haste: Next, in Confusion go
The light-arm'd Bands; the Foot, disorder'd, too
Forsake their Ranks: with them, though us'd in War,
Unfit for Fight, the Sutlers mixed are;
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And Ominous Tumults through all Places spread,
Advancing to the Fight, as if they fled.
While from the Lake, a Vapour, black as Night,
Arose, and, quite depriving them of Sight,
In a dark Mantle of condensed Clouds
Involves the Skies, and Day desired shrouds.
But Hannibal pursues His Fraud the while,
And, in His Ambush closely sitting still,
Would not permit them, in their Haste, to be
Oppos'd, while all the Shore appeareth free
From Danger, and neglected by the Fo,
Who, to their Fall, permits them on to go.
For they, advancing through a narrow Way,
(Before design'd, their Safety to betray)
A double Ruin found. The Waters here
Contract their Passage: there steep Rocks appear,
And, on the Mountain's Top, within the Wood,
T'engage them, there a Libyan Party stood,
Ready to fall on any, that should fly
To a Retreat. So, when a Fisher, by
A Chrystal Brook, an Osier Weel doth twine,
The Entrance large he makes, but binds within
The Tonnel Close, contracting by Degrees
The yielding Tops into a Pyramis;
Through which deceitfull Hole the Fish, with Ease,
Do enter, but return not to the Seas.
In the mean time, the furious Consul lost
His Reason, in this Storm of Fates: in Haste
He calls his Ensigns on; untill, from Sea,
The Sun's bright Horses re-advanc'd the Day,
And Rosie Titan, to revive the World,
The Clouds, that o're the Face of Heav'n were hurl'd,
Had quite dispers'd, and sensibly to Hell,
By his clear Rays resolv'd, the Darkness fell.
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And then a Bird (which as an old Presage
The Latines us'd, before they did engage
In Fight) he took, t'explore the Gods Intent,
And what should be the following Fight's Event.
The Bird, Divining future Miseries,
Refus'd her Meat, and from it, crying, flies.
With that a Bull (a sad Presage!) before
The Holy Altars, ceased not to roar,
And, waving with his Neck, the fatal Stroak,
O'th' falling Ax, the Sacred Place forsook.
Besides, as they endeavour'd, where they stood,
To pull their Ensigns up, the Earth black Blood
Into their Faces spouts; as to foretell
That Slaughter, which them, afterwards, befell.
Then Jove, the Sea, and Land, with Thunder shook,
And, snatching Bolts from Ætna's Forges, strook
The Thrasimenian Lake, that smoaking seems
To burn, and Flames to live within the Streams.
Oh lost Admonishments, and Prodigies,
That strive, in vain, to stop the Destinies!
Ev'n Gods, themselves, must with the Fates dispence.
And here Corvinus, fam'd for Eloquence,
And of a Noble Name, (whose Helmet bore
Thy Bird, Apollo, that did long before
The Valour of his Grand-Father declare,
Full of the Gods, and, troubled at the Fear
Of his Companion, intermingled than
With Counsel Pray'rs, and with these Words began:
By the Iliack Flames, the Fate of Rome,
Our Countrie's Walls, and by our Sons, that from
This Fight's Event the Fates as yet suspend,
Yield to the Gods, We pray thee, and attend
A Time more fortunate for Battel: they
A Field will give thee, and a better Day.
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Onely disdain not Thou t'expect the more
Propitious Gods, and that more happy Hour,
Which shall for Libya's Destruction call;
And when, not forc'd, as now, our Ensigns all
Shall follow; when our Birds shall gladly feed,
And pious Earth no more so strangely bleed.
How much is left to Fortune in this Place,
Skilfull in War, Thou know'st. Before our Face
The Fo appears: those woody Hills now threat
An Ambush; on the left Hand no Retreat
The Lake allows: the Pass is narrow too
Between those Hills. It's Wisdom then in you
With Stratagems to strive, and fight Delay,
Untill with fresh Supplies, Servilius may
Arrive, that with you, in Command, doth share,
And's Forces, in the Legions, equal are.
The War with Policy we must pursue:
To th'fighting Man the least of Honour's due.
Corvinus thus exhorts: the Captains were
No less importunate, and all with Fear
Divided. Sometimes for Flaminius pray
Unto the Gods: then him intreat t'obey
The Pow'rs Divine, and not their Will oppose.
With that his kindled Fury higher rose,
And hearing (full of Rage) that new Supplies
Would soon be there; Saw you not Me (he cries)
When in the Boian War I charg'd, and when
So great a Ruin, and such dreadfull Men
Came on: that, the Tarpeian Rock again
Did tremble, then what Multitudes were slain
By me? How, then, this vengefull Hand the Ground
Bestrew'd with Bodies, which the deepest Wound
Could scarce destroy: yet were they forc'd to yield,
And now their scatter'd Bones oppress the Field.
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Therefore Servilius Arms may come too late
To this brave Action, if you think not that
I cannot overcome, unless I share
My Triumphs; and, contented am to bear
A part of Honour; but the Gods do seem
T'advise us otherwise. Oh do not Dream
(You that now fear the Trumpets Sound) of Gods,
So like your selves. Our trusty Swords are odds,
And Augury enough, against the Fo.
The best Presage the Romane Souldiers know,
Is, that, in Feats of Arms, they do excell;
Must it be then resolv'd that I sit still
Corvinus, basely thus within a Vale
Besieg'd, while the Sidonians do prevail
Against Arretia's Walls, and levell to
The Ground, the Tow'r of Corythus, and go
Thence to Clusinum, and at length may come
Untouch'd, unto the very Walls of Rome?
Vain Superstition! a Deformity
In men of Arms! Valour alone should be
The Goddess that should o're their Souls command.
Troops of sad Ghosts, by Night about us stand,
Whose Corps are tumbled still in Trebia's Waves,
And swift Eridanus, and want their Graves.
Thus having said, without Delay, he quits
Th'Assembly; and, Inexorable, fits
His last unhappy Arms: a Sea-Bulls Hide
His Helmet lines, and on the Top (its Pride)
A triple Crest ascends, and largely spreads
A Main, the Locks resembling of the Swedes:
Above was Scylla, waving in her Hand,
A broken, Oar, and Dogs about her stand
With gaping Jaws. This noble Trophie, He
Gain'd near Garganus, and the Victory,
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So pleas'd him (having slain the Boian King)
That, fitted to his Head, he us'd to bring
This, as his Glory, into ev'ry Fight.
Then takes his Coat of Mail, whose Scales were knit
To Chains of Steel, and studded o're with Gold.
Next he assumes his Shield, where they behold
The Stains of Celtick Blood, which He before
In Battel shed: and, in it carv'd, he bore
A she-Wolf's Figure, in her gloomy Den,
Licking a Child's soft Limbs, as it had been
Her Whelp, and nurs'd of the Assarick Line
A Stem, that afterwards was made Divine.
At last, he girds his Sword, and to's Right Hand
Makes fit his Lance. Hard by doth ready stand
His Horse; which, cover'd with a Tiger's Hide,
Champs on his frothy Bit with pleasing Pride.
Then mounted, where the way between the Hills
Was streight, thus with Encouragement he fills
His Men. Your Work, and Honour, it will be
(Dear Countrey-men) to let your Parents see
Fix'd on a Spear, and born, with Joy, through all
The Streets of Rome, the Head of Hannibal.
That Head may satisfie for all the rest:
Let each man therefore fancy in his Breast,
What may excite his Rage, and thus deplore;
My Brother, now, upon Ticinus Shore
Unburyed lyes. Alass! my Son through all
The Po now swims, and wants a Funeral.
Thus to himself let ev'ry Man prepare
Revenge; but as to you, who have no Share
Of private Grief, let those great things, which fire
A publick Soul, enflame your greater Ire.
Think they have broken through the Alpine Hills;
And then remember those Nefandous Ills
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Sagunthus suffer'd, what a Sin it was
In them, Iberus Sacred Bounds to pass,
And now ev'n Tyber touch. For while, in Vain,
With Birds, and Entrails, Augurs you detain;
It onely wanteth, now, that he invade
The Capitol. This when he'd eager said,
And seeing that his Horse, amidst the Croud
Of thousands, rais'd his cloudy Mane, aloud
He cries; To fight, my Orphitus, must prove
Thy Task. What other to Feretrian Jove
Opimous Off'rings can in Triumph bare?
For why should any Hand this Honour share
With Me? Then moves, and hearing a known Voice
In Fight, Far hence (said he) that Martial Noise
Shews thee to be Murranus: and I Thee
Already high in Tyrian Slaughter see.
How great a Praise attends thee? but (I pray)
Let thy Sword wider make that narrow Way.
Then knowing (born upon Soracte's Hill)
Æquanus, who in Beauty did excell,
And Arms (the Customs of whose Countrey were,
The Entrails thrice through harmless Flames to bear;
When as the Pious Archer did desire
To offer Sacrifice in Holy Fire)
Noble Æquanus, may'st thou ever so
Unburnt, on Phœbus flaming Altars go,
And conquering the Smoak, so ev'ry Year
To the pleas'd God (said he) thy Offering bear.
Worthy thy Deeds, and Wounds, conceive a Rage:
Accompanied by Thee, I dare engage
To penetrate through the Marmarick Bands,
Or charge Cinyphian Troops. With that he stands
No longer to advise, or to delay
With Words that Fight, which by the Romanes may
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Be long deplor'd. The Signal ev'rywhere
Is giv'n, and fatal Trumpets rend the Air.
Oh Grief! Oh Tears, which, in so long Descent
Of Ages, cannot, now, too late be spent!
I Tremble, as if now those Mischeifs all
Were acted; as if Libyans Hannibal,
And arm'd Asturians, from their Hills did bring,
Or the fierce Balearick with his Sling.
Now num'rous Troops of Macians, Nomades,
And Garamantians sally forth: with these
The Warlike, stout Cantabrians; then whom,
With Mercenary Hands, none sooner come
To fight; or hired Arms more gladly bear:
And Gascoins too, that Helmets scorn to wear.
On this Side, horrid Rocks; on that, the Lake:
Here clashing Arms, with the loud Shouts they make,
Amaze, and urge: beside the Signal from
The Tyrian Camp, through all the Hills, doth come.
The Gods, their Faces turning from the Field,
Unwillingly to greater Fates do yield.
Ev'n Mars, thy Fortune (Hannibal) doth fear;
Sad Venus weepeth, with dishevel'd Hair;
Apollo, to his Delos, doth retire,
And strives to ease his Grief with mournfull Lyre.
Juno, alone, on Appeninus stood
Expecting Slaughter, hating Trojan Blood.
But, as if forcing Heaven, and free from Fear,
In their own Hands, th'incensed Souldiers bear
Predestin'd Piacles, and kill again
Fresh Sacrifice, in Fight, to those were slain.
First, the Picenian Bands, when they beheld
The Cohorts dissipated, and repell'd,
And Hannibal advancing furiously,
Charge Him with Courage, and, before they dy,
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Amaze the Conquerour (whom they invade)
To see the Slaughters, that their Valour made.
For, now, with one Consent, and Force, a Showr
Of Piles upon the Libyan Troops they pour,
And when repuls'd, their fixed Targets all,
Press'd with the Weight of crooked Shafts, let fall.
This with their Gen'ral's Presence doth excite
The Libyans Rage; who mutually to fight
Exhort each other, and so closely prest
Upon their Foes, they fought them Breast to Breast.
Her Torch Bellona shaking through the Air,
And sprinkling, with much Blood, her flaming Hair,
Through both the Armies, up, and down, doth flee,
And from her horrid Breast, Tisiphone
A deadly Murmur sends: while to engage,
The fatal Trumpets all their Minds enrage.
These by their adverse Fortune, and Despair
Of future Safety, animated are:
Them more propitious Gods, and Victory,
Smiling upon them with a joyfull Eye,
Encourage, favour'd by the God of War.
But Lateranus, while entic'd, too far
With Love of Slaughter, furious on he goes,
At length engaged stood among his Foes:
When Lentulus, of equal Age, him spy'd,
Too much with Fight, and Blood, on ev'ry Side
Oppress'd, and midst an Army to provoke
The Fates, with a brisk Charge, to aid him, broke
Through all the Ranks; and Baga, then about
To wound him in the Back (though fierce, and stout)
Prevented with his Spear, and doth attend
The Fate, and hard Adventures of his Friend.
With chearfull Courage, now, their Arms they joyn,
Their Fronts, and Crests, with equal Glory shine.
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When Syrticus, by Chance (for who durst move
Arms against them, unless by Stygian Jove
Condemn'd to dy?) descending from the Hill,
Arm'd with a broken Oak, upon them fell:
And as the weighty Tree about he waves,
With Thirst of both their Deaths, thus vainly raves.
Not here (fond Youths) Ægates, nor a Coast
Treach'rous to Seamen, nor the Ocean, tost
By new-rais'd Tempests, shall on you bestow
Fortune, without a War. You now shall know,
That once were Conquerours at Sea, by Land
What Libyan Warriours are, nor us withstand
Within a better Empire. As he spoke,
At Lateranus with the pond'rous Oak
He strikes, and fighting rails: when Lentulus,
Gnashing his Teeth for Anger, meets him thus.
Sooner shall Thrasimenus raise his Flood
To those high Hills, then in his Pious Blood
That thy pernicious Tree thou shalt imbrue.
And, as he stretch'd himself to strike, quite through
His Body pierc'd him: through the gaping Wound
The reeking Gore flows largely to the Ground.
No less, in other Quarters of the Field,
Imcens'd to mutual Wounds, their Fury swell'd.
By tall Hiertes Nereus fell: and by
Rullus brave Volunx, rich in Land, doth dy.
Nor Riches heap'd, nor Palaces, that shin'd
With's Countrey's Ivory, to which were joyn'd
His Vassal Villages, could now withhold
His Fate. What boots extorted Wealth? or Gold,
Which Men, with Thirst insatiable, pursue?
Whom Fortune richly did of late endue
With her most wealthy Gifts, is, naked, now
By Charon wafted, to the Shades below.
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There Warlike Appius, though but young in Years,
Great in Attempts, the Field with Slaughter clears:
And where of greatest Strength, and Valour, none
Else durst aspire, there Honour He, alone,
Atchieves. Him Atlas meeting (Atlas, who,
Sprang from Iberian Blood, did vainly plow
Remotest Sands) thrusts at his Face a Lance:
The Top whereof, as it doth lightly glance,
And raze the Skin, tasteth his Noble Blood.
Like Thunder now, or a Storm-raised Flood
He threats. New Flames, within his furious Eyes,
Are kindled: mad, like Lightning, then he flies
Through all th'opposing Troops; his Wound, that sends
Blood from beneath his Cask, the rest commends
Of his stout Martial Limbs: then might you see
The trembling Youth, contending, as they flee,
To hide themselves. As, when th'affrighted Deer
An Hircan Tiger follows; or with Fear
Doves fly the tow'ring Hawk; or as the Hare,
When she beholds the Eagle, in the Air,
Ready to stoop, to Covert runs with Speed:
Here with his Sword, he lops off Atlas Head.
And his Right Hand then, raging, on doth go,
Charging, more furious by Success, his Fo.
For arm'd with a bright Ax, and, in the Sight
Of's Father Mago, to engage in Fight
Ambitious: big with Hopes of Praise, there stood
Cinyphian Isalces, vainly proud
Of promis'd Nuptials, when the Romane War
Should ended be. But Appius sets a Bar
To these his Hopes, and with such Fury came
Against him; that, as he his Ax, with Aim,
Directed at his Face, so strong a Stroak
Fierce Appius, rising higher, gave, he broke
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His Sword upon his Cask. Isalces too
Upon his Target gives as vain a Blow.
With that a Stone, which, had not Anger lent
Him Strength, he could not lift, now almost Spent,
At's Fo stout Appius throws: it's weighty Fall
Him backward fells, and breaks his Bones withall.
When Mago saw him fall (for near at hand
He fought) he wept beneath his Helmet, and
Groaning with Rage, came on. Th'Alliance late
By them contracted, and the Nephews, that
He thence expected, fire his Thoughts the more.
But as, with nearer View, he doth explore
Appius his Shield, large Members, and the Raies
Of's Helmet; him a while that Sight delays.
As when a Lyon from a shady Hill
In haste descends, his hungry Gorge to fill,
He stands, and soon contracts his Speed, if he
Within the Plain a Bull approaching see;
Though with long Hunger press'd, he views his high,
Thick, rising Neck; admires his threatning Eye
Beneath a rugged Brow, while he prepares
For Fight, and Earth, to give the Signal, tears.
First Appius spoke, as he a Jav'lin threw;
If thou hast any Piety, pursue
Thy Contract, and accompany thy Son
In Death. With that the flying Weapon run
Quite through his brazen Arms, untill it struck
His Left Arm, and in it, deep wounding, stuck.
The Libyan Return of Words forbore.
But with his Spear (which Hannibal before
Sagunthus Walls, a Conquerour had ta'ne
From Noble Durius, there in Battel slain,
And to his Brother gave; which, with Delight,
He, a brave Trophie, bore in ev'ry Fight)
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Charg'd him. Grief lending Force, the Weapon through
His Cask, and Mouth inflicts a deadly Blow;
And, as he strove to draw it from the Wound,
His Hands, soon bloodless, fell. Upon the Ground,
Appius, a Name through the Maonian Sea,
Renown'd, a great Part of Rome's Ruin, lay.
And in his bloody Mouth, expiring, there
Crush'd, and, with murm'ring, bites the fatal Spear.
The Lake then trembled: from his Body dead,
With Waves contracted, Thrasimenus fled.
Next, with no better Fates, Mamercus dyes,
And wounded falls, by all his Enemies.
For where the Lusitanian Cohorts fought,
Gain'd with much Blood, and Valour, as he brought
A Standard, whose stout Bearer he had slain,
And call'd his flying Countrey-men again,
His Foes, incens'd at what they saw him do,
What ever in their Hands was Missile threw,
And likewise all, that Earth, then cover'd o're
With Darts, and Spears, afforded (like a Shour
Of Hail) upon him falls, and greater Store
Of Darts no single Romane felt before.
Thus stout Mamercus fell, and at his Fall,
Vex'd at his Brother's Hurt, came Hannibal,
And raging ask'd (when He the Wound espy'd)
Now him, then his Companions, If his Side
The Spear had pierc'd? or, if within the Wound
'Twere fix'd? But, when no fear of Death he found,
Nor Danger, from the Field he strait was sent,
Cover'd with His own Coat, into His Tent,
Within the Camp, and free from Trouble: there
For Cure all Med'cinal Arts prepared were
By Learned Synalus, who did infuse,
Bathing the Wound throughout, the healing Juice
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Of choicest Herbs, and, with a secret Charm
The Weapon strait extracted from his Arm,
Him with a crooked Snake to Sleep compell'd:
All other Synalus in Skill excell'd,
And for it was through all the Neighb'ring Land,
And Cities, fam'd, o'th' Paretonian Sand.
To Synalus (his Grand-father) of old
Those Secrets Garamantick Hammon told,
And how the Bitings of wild Beasts to heal,
And deepest Wounds of Weapons did reveal.
He those Celestial Gifts, while yet he liv'd,
Transmitted to his Son; who them deriv'd
To th'Honour of his Heir: whom Synalus,
As great in Fame, succeeds, and, Studious
His Garamantick Secrets to improve,
(As a Companion once to Horned Jove)
With many Images, his Grand-sire's Line
Deduc'd. Now, when he brought those Gifts Divine
In Haste (as Custom was) his Garments round
Tuck'd up, with Water first he purg'd the Wound
From Blood. But Mago, thinking on the Spoils,
And Death, of his slain Fo, his Brother's Toils,
And Cares, with Words of Courage, thus allaies,
And eas'd his own Mishaps, with Thoughts of Praise.
Cease from Thy Fears (dear Brother) to my Wound
No greater Remedy can now be found:
Great Appius, by me compell'd, is gone
To th'Shades below, and we enough have done,
Since He is dead, I, willingly, can go
To Hell it self, after so brave a Fo.
But, when the Consul from an Hill beheld,
That this the Libyan Captain from the Field
Had, troubled, turn'd; that in their Trenches they
(As if the Clouds of War were vanish'd) lay;
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With sudden Fury, for his Horse he calls,
And, from the Hill descending, fiercely falls
Upon the trembling Files; which, now grown thin,
He routs, and in the Valley doth begin
The Fight again. As when the Clouds above,
Surcharg'd with ratling Hail, dissolve, and Jove,
Mixing his Thunder with their Torrent, shakes
The Alps, and high Ceraunian Rocks, and makes
The World (thus mov'd) the Earth, the Sea, the Air,
To tremble, and ev'n Hell it self to fear:
So, like a sudden Tempest, from the Hill,
The Consul on the frighted Lybians fell.
The Sight of Him chill Horrour strikes into
Their Bones; while he through thickest Ranks doth go,
And, with his Sword, cuts out a spacious Way.
With that, confused Cries to Heav'n convey
The Fury of the Fight, and strike the Stars.
As, when the angry Seas against the Bars
Of Hercules do beat, and roaring Waves
Throws into lofty Calpe's hollow Caves,
The Mountain groans; and, as, with furious Shocks,
The foaming Billows break against the Rocks,
Tartessos, though far distant thence by Land,
And Lixus, that by no small Sea doth stand
Divided thence, at once the Eccho share.
By a swift Dart, that Silent through the Air
Had pass'd, before the rest doth Bogus fall:
Bogus, who at Ticinus, first of all,
Against the Rutuli his Jav'lin flung,
And vainly thought, that Clotho would prolong
His Thread of Life, and that a num'rous Line
Of Nephews he should see, by the false Sign
Of flying Birds deceiv'd. But none have power
By Augury to remove the fatal Hour.
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'Mid'st Storms of Darts he falls; and to the Skies
Lifting, in vain, his dim, and bleeding Eyes,
O'th' Gods, misunderstood, as he expires,
The Promises of longer Life requires.
Neither could Bagasus then boast, in Fight
That he, unpunish'd, in the Consul's Sight,
Had conquer'd Libo strip'd; who vainly there
The Lawrel of his Ancestours did wear.
But a Massilian Sword lops off his Head,
And, on his Cheeks as Down began to spread,
The barb'rous Souldier, by untimely Death,
Suppress'd his rising Years. Yet his last Breath
Did not in vain implore Flaminius Aid:
For strait, by him, his Fo was headless made:
As pleas'd that, after his Example, by
The same sad Death the Conquerour should dy.
What God, O Muses, aptly can rehearse
So many Funerals? Or who, in Verse,
Worthy such Noble Shades, lament their Fall?
Or tell how there the Early Youth did all
Contend in Death for Honour? Or what then,
Ev'n in the Porch of Death, more Aged men
Perform'd? What Courage of unconquer'd Hearts
They shew'd; when as their Breasts were fill'd with Darts?
On either Side, as Furious they engage,
They Frequent fell, nor would their Eager Rage
Allow them Time to Spoil, or Thoughts of Prey,
Which their Desire of Slaughter takes away.
The Consul, while, within the Camp, the Fo
The Wound of Mago kept, now Darts doth throw;
Then us'd his Sword, and, mounted on his Horse,
Through Myriads of Men, his Way doth force:
Sometimes afoot before the Eagles goes;
While Blood the fatal Valley overflows
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With num'rous Streams, and th'hollow Rocks, and Hills,
The Noise of Horse, and Arms, with Eccho fills.
Marmarick Othrys, in the Field, among
The rest, advanc'd to fight. His Body strong
Above all humane Strength: the very Sight
Of his Gigantick Members turn'd to Flight
The trembling Wings: his Shoulders, largely spread,
Above both Armies rais'd his lofty Head.
Rude, like an Horse's Mane, his Tresses hung
Upon his lowring Brows: his Beard as long
O're shadowing his Mouth: his squallid Breast
The horrid Bristles of a Boar exprest.
Scarce any dare look on him, or come near
To fight him. Like a Monster ev'ry where
He rangeth through the Field, from Danger free:
Till, turning his fierce Looks on those that flee,
A Cretan Arrow, mounting to the Skies
With silent Wings, in one of's glaring Eyes
Doth falling fix, and turneth him aside
From the Pursuit. Which, when the Consul spy'd
He lanceth at his Back, as he retreats
Towards the Camp, a Dart, that penetrates
(Breaking his naked Ribs) his Body through,
And in his bristled Breast the Head doth shew.
To draw it forth, with Hast, he labours, where
The fatal shining Point did first appear;
Till, the Blood largely flowing to the Ground,
He fell, and crush'd the Weapon in the Wound.
His last Breath, waving through the Field, doth rear
The Dust, and heaves a Cloud into the Air.
In the mean time, a diff'rent War, the Hills,
The Woods, and Cliffs, with various Slaughter fills;
The Rocks, and Thorns, as dy'd with Blood appear.
The Cause of their Destruction, and their Fear,
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Sychæus was: who, at a Distance, slew
Murranus with a Lance; then whom none knew,
In time of Peace, more sweetly with his Quill
To touch Orphæan Nerves, or had more Skill.
In a vast Wood he fell, and, ev'n in Death,
Look'd for the Æquanian Hills (where first his Breath
He drew) in Wine most fertile; and for fair
Surentum, where the Zephyrs purge the Air.
To his sad Fate conqu'ring Sychæus joyn'd
Another's Fall: and in that new sad Kind
Of cruel Fight rejoyc'd, For, while into
The Wood, Tauranus, rashly, did pursue
The stragling Fo; too far engag'd, as he
Secur'd his Back, against an aged Tree,
From Blows, and vainly his Companions calls
With his last Breath, he by Sychæus falls:
And, piercing through his Body, in the Wood,
Behind him fix'd, the Tyrian Jav'lin stood.
But what did You unto your selves prepare?
What Anger of the Gods? What sad Despair
Your Minds possess'd? Who, quitting Fight, did fly
To Arms of Trees for your Security?
Fear, in distress'd Affairs, adviseth still
The worst; and, whensoe're th'Event is ill,
It argues want of Courage. In the Wood,
It's Branches to the Skies extending, stood
An aged Tree: which, high above the rest,
Into the highest Clouds, aspiring, prest
Its shady Head, and (had it stood within
An open Field) as it a Grove had been,
To a most large extent, the dark'ned Ground
Had cover'd with its Shade. Near that they found
An Oak, which, there through many Ages grown,
Endeavour'd to the Stars its mossie Crown
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To raise, and from its spreading Trunk did fill
The Arms with Leaves, and shadow'd all the Hill.
Hither the Cohorts, sent from Sicily,
Not daring to prevent their Infamy
By Death, and yielding up their Minds to Fear,
Contend with Speed to fly; and climbing there,
The Wav'ring Boughs, with their uncertain Weight
Oppress'd, and all contending to be at
The safest Place, some shaken from their Stand,
Fall to the Ground, by rotten Branches, and
The aged Tree deceiv'd; some Trembling hung
Still on the Top, among the Darts were flung
Against them by the Fo: untill resolv'd,
That in one Ruin all should be involv'd
At once, Sychæus lai'd his Shield aside,
His Weapons chang'd, and strait an Ax imploy'd,
Late sharp'ned for the Fight. With him the rest
Hasten the Work, and all the Tree invest;
Which now, through frequent Blows declining, cracks
Aloud: and, as the weakned Body shakes,
Th'unhappy Troop upon it, to, and fro
Are tott'ring toss'd. So, when the Zephyrs blow
Upon an antient Grove, the Birds, that there,
On the weak Tops of Trees, their Nests prepare,
Are toss'd, and made the Sport of ev'ry Blast.
O'recome with many Blows, the Oak, at last,
(Their most unhappy Sanctuary) doth fall,
And, in its spacious Ruin, crush'd them all.
Then doth another Face of Death appear;
That Tree, that to their Slaughter was so near,
Shines, and is seis'd by active Flames: among
The Leaves, and Branches dry, and growing strong
Vulcan his Globes of furious Fire doth turn
To ev'ry Side, and highest Boughs doth burn.
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Nor do the Libyans cease their Darts to cast;
While Bodies, half-consum'd by Fire, imbrac'd
The burning Arms, and with them, groaning, fell.
But amidst this Destruction (sad to tell)
The incens'd Consul came, and busied all
His Thoughts on Rage, and fierce Sychæus fall.
The Danger of so great an Enemy
Prompts the brave Youth, his Fate again to try
With's Lance; which lightly on the brazen brim
Of's Shield he plac'd, thereby to hinder him
To pass through that Defence: the Consul, loath
To trust the Fortune of Sychæus Death
To missile Weapons, with his Sword advanc'd,
And, maugre his thick Shield, so deeply lanc'd
His Side, he fell, expiring, to the Ground
Upon his Face. Death, entring at the Wound,
With Stygian Cold, through ev'ry Part doth creep,
His Eyes composing to Eternal Sleep.
While thus the God of War himself applies,
To Enterchanges of sad Tragedies,
Mago, and Hannibal the Camp forsake,
And, in their speedy March, their Ensigns take
Along; most eager to repair the Time,
That they were absent, by a greater Crime
Of Blood, and Slaughter: with their furious Pace,
The Troops, advancing, raise in ev'ry Place
Thick Clouds of Dust (like Whirlwinds) to the Skies;
And with the Sand the Field doth seem to rise:
And wheresoe're the Gen'ral bends his Course,
Like a strong Tempest, with impetuous Force,
Through the vast Air it swells, and highest Hills
Covers with horrid Darkness. Here he kills
Valiant Fontanus, wounded in the Thigh:
There, pierc'd quite though the Throat, stout Bucca by
144

His Spear was slain; the Point through th'Wound appears
In's Neck behind: Fregella him with Tears
Bewail'd, renowned for's antient Descent:
Th'other his fair Anagnia did lament.
Like Fate (Levinus) thee befell, although
Thou didst not choose the Tyrian King thy Fo;
But with Hiremon, who then led the light
Autololes, contend'st in single Fight:
Whom, wounded in the Knee, and Prostrate, while
Thou dost keep down, and vainly seek to spoil,
With cruel Force, an heavy Jav'lin broke
Thy Ribs; thy Body by the fatal Stroke,
With sudden Ruin, on thy prostrate Fo
Doth fall, and Both in Death together go.
Nor were the Sidicinian Cohorts then
Wanting in Valour: these (a thousand Men)
Stout Viridasius arm'd, whose Skill did yield
To none, to guid a Ship, or pitch a Field,
None sooner could with batt'ring Rams prevail
'Gainst Walls, or sooner highest Tow'rs could scale.
Him, when the Libyan General beheld,
With the Successes of his Valour swell'd,
(For he Avaricus, not trusting to
His Arms, and by him Hurt, did then pursue)
His Anger rising higher, at that Sight,
He thought him worthy with Himself to fight:
And, from Avaricus as he withdrew,
His wounding Spear upon him fiercely flew,
And, piercing deep into his Breast, said He;
Prais'd be thy Valour, whosoe're thou be;
'Tis pitty Thou by other Hands should'st fall.
The Honour, thus to dy by Hannibal,
Bear to the Shades below; and, were not Thou
Born of Italian Blood, thy Life should now
145

Be spar'd: next him, he Fabius slew, and bold
Labicus, who in feats of Arms was old,
And long before, in Arethusa's Land,
Had with Amilcar fought, and Honour gain'd:
And, now, unmindfull of his broken years,
With Courage fresh, again in Arms appears:
But that He now grew cold in War, his Blows
More vain betray (the Fire, so, weakly glows
In dying Embers, that no Strength at all,
The Flame retains) him, when fierce Hannibal
(Shew'd by His Father's Armour-Bearer) spy'd,
Thy former Fight's due Punishment (He cry'd)
Receive, by this my Hand: Amilcar now
Revenging, draggs thee to the Shades below.
This said, from's Ear, with Aim, a Dart he throws,
Which, as upon the Wound he turned, goes
Quite through his Head, the fatal Shaft again
Pull'd out, his hoary Locks, a Crimson Stain,
Of Blood, receive, and his long Labours all,
In Death are ended. Next to him doth fall
Herminius (a Youth) who first, there took
Up Arms, before accustom'd with his Hook,
(Fam'd Thrasimenus) in thy Lake to prey,
And to his aged Father oft convey
Delicious Food, and with his Angle, from
The Neighb'ring Waters drew the Fishes Home.
But, now the Carthaginians, sad, convey
Upon their Arms, Sichæus Corps away,
Unto the Camp, whom with a mournfull Cry
Pressing along, as Hannibal doth spy.
With a Presaging Grief He strikes his Breast,
What is this Sadness that's by you exprest
My Friends? (said He) of what hath us the Ire
Of Heaven depriv'd? Thee burning with Desire
146

Of Praise, Sichæus, and too great a Love
Of thy first War, doth this Black day remove
From Life, and Us, by an untimely Fall?
With that he groan'd, to which the Tears of all,
That bare him, do Consent, who likewise tell,
Weeping, by whose revengefull Hand he fell.
I see it in his Breast (said He) see where
The Wound was made by the Ilîack Spear:
Oh worthy our dear Carthage shalt thou go,
And worthy Hasdrubal, to Ghosts below.
Nor shall thy Noble Mother thee lament,
Degenerate, from thy so high Descent.
Nor, as unlike thy Ancestours, from Thee
In Stygian Shades, shall our Amilcar flee.
But these our Tears Flaminius, this Day,
(The Cause of all) by's Death shall wipe away:
This Pomp, thy Funeral shall sure attend,
And impious Rome her self shall, in the End,
That my Sichæus Body with her Sword
She ne're had wounded, any Rate afford.
Thus he his Fury vents, and, as he speaks,
From's foaming Mouth, like Smoak, a Vapour breaks
His Rage in broken Murmurs from his Breast
Extrudes that Breath, that should have Words exprest:
(So from a boiling Pot in scalding Heaps,
Like Waves, through too much Heat, the Liquour leaps)
Then with blind Rage, into the midst of all,
He Runs, and Rends the Air, as He doth call
Upon Flaminius; who no sooner hears
His Voice, but to the Combat he appears,
And Mars more near approach'd; while Hand, to Hand,
To fight within the Lists, both Champions stand.
Then strait, through all the Rocks a sudden Crack
Doth run: the Mountains all with Horrour shake;
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Their Tops do tremble, and the Grove of Pines
That crown'd them, from its pleasant Height declines:
And broken Quarries on the Armies fall;
Groaning, as pull'd from her Foundations, all
The Earth doth quake, and breaking strangely wide
Through the vast Gulfe, where Stygian Shades discry'd,
And fear'd the Day again. The troubled Lake
Rais'd to the highest Hills, forc'd to forsake
Its ancient Seat, and Channel, with a Flood
Before unknown, now laves the Tyrrhen Wood:
This Storm the People, and the Towns of Kings,
Like a dire Plague to sad Destruction brings.
Besides all this, the Rivers backward run,
And fight with Mountains, and the Sea begun
To change its Tydes, the Faunes now quit the Hill
Of Apennine, and fly to Floods, yet still
The Souldier (O the Rage of War!) although
The reeling Earth doth toss him too, and fro,
Fights on, and as he falls, deceived by
Th'unconstant Ground, throws at his Enemy
His trembling Darts, till wandring here, and there,
The Daunian Youth distracted through their Fear,
Fly to the Shore, and leap into the Stream.
The Consul, who by Chance was mix'd with them,
That by the Earthquake fell, their Fight, in vain,
Upbraids. What then; I pray you, doth remain
To such as fly? To Hannibal thus you
His Way unto the Walls of Rome doth show:
You put both Fire, and Sword into His Hand,
'Gainst Jove's Tarpeian Tow'r: Oh Souldiers stand,
And Learn by me to fight; If ye deny
To fight at all, then Learn of me to dy;
Flaminius to Posterity shall give
No vile Example; and while I do live,
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No Libyan, or Cantabrian, shall see
A Consul's Back, although alone I be.
But, if so great a Thirst, and Rage of Flight
Your Minds invades, their Weapons all shall light
Upon this Breast; and, after this my Fall,
My Ghost into the Fight shall you recall.
While thus he vents his Grief, and doth advance
To meet his num'rous Foes, with Countenance,
And Mind as Cruel, forth Ducarius came,
Who from his Ancestours deriv'd his Name;
And, since the Boian Armie's Overthrow,
Those Wounds, which he receiv'd so long ago,
As Marks of barb'rous Courage, did retain,
And, knowing the proud Conqu'rour's Face again,
Art Thou the Boians greatest Terrour? I
(Said he) by this my wounding Dart will try,
If th'Blood of such a Body may be shed:
Nor be You slack, more vulgar Hands, that Head
To Sacrifice to valiant Ghosts; 'twas he,
Who in his Chariot, proud of Victory,
Our captiv'd Fathers to the Capitol
Drove: and they, now, on You for Vengeance call.
With that a Showr of Darts, that ev'ry where
Fly, like a Tempest, through the darkned Air,
O'rewhelm, and hide his Body; so that none
Could after boast, that by his Hand, alone,
Flaminius dy'd. Thus with the General
The Fight soon ended: for the Chief of all
The Youth, as angry with themselves, and Heaven,
That to their Arms so ill Success had given,
And choosing rather once to dy, then see
The Affrican enjoy the Victory,
With Hands all bloody, in the fatal Fight,
Seise on their Gen'ral's Body, in their Sight
149

So lately slain, with all his Weapons; and,
United in a Ring, about him stand,
Till all, in one great Heap of Slaughter, dy'd,
And falling, like an Hill, his Body hid.
Now, having spread Destruction through the Wood,
And Lake, and left the Valleys deep in Blood,
To th'Heap of Bodies Hannibal withdrew,
And with him Mago: and, as them they view,
What Wounds? What Deaths are here? (said he) behold,
How ev'ry Hand still grasps a Sword, though cold
In Death! The armed Souldiers, as they ly,
Seem to maintain the Fight! How these did dy
Now let our Troops observe: the Threats appear
Yet in their Foreheads, and their Faces bear
Their living Anger, and, I fear, that Land,
Which fruitfull is in Men so valiant, and
Of so great Courage, Fates to her decree
The Empire of the World, and She shall be
Victorious in Distress. This said, He yields
To Night: and Darkness, over all the Fields
Diffus'd, (while Sol into the Sea descends)
Restrains their Fury, and the Slaughter ends.
The End of the Fifth Book.
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