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181

The Seventh Book.

The Argument.

Fabius is for the War Dictatour made:
The Libyan, by His Policy delai'd,
Wasts the Falernian Countrey, and, to gain
A Battel, sev'ral Waies removes, in Vain,
Untill at length, by the Ausonian Bands
Encompass'd, in a Vale, besieg'd, he stands:
His Stratagem, by which His Troops agen
Are from this Danger freed: the Romane then,
With Mutiny demanding Battel, are
By Fabius appeas'd. At length the War
Is to Minutius left, who soon doth yield
To their Designs, and rashly takes the Field
To fight: at first the Libyan prevails,
Till Fabius, while all other Succour fails,
Came to the Romanes Aid, who get the Day,
And Sacrifices to his Honour pay.
But Fabius, the onely Hope, and Stay
Of Rome's distress'd Affairs, Ausonia
(Now sinking through her Wounds) and her Allies
Soon arms: and vig'rously himself applies
(Though old) the hardest Toils to undergo,
And with his Army march'd against the Fo.
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His Understanding more, then Man's, no Force
Of Darts, no Weapons, nor the Strength of Horse
Regarded; but he went, alone, 'gainst all
The Libyan Forces, and their General,
As yet Unconquer'd; keeping in his Breast,
Alone, the Strength, and Safety of the Rest:
And, if He had not then resolv'd to stay
The Course of Adverse Fortune, by Delay,
That, the last Age of the Dardanian Name
Had surely been, and Rome had lost her Fame.
The Favour of the Gods, that did attend
The Punick Arms, He temper'd, and an End
To Libya's Conquests put. The Enemy,
Insulting in the Woes of Italy,
By his wise Conduct He debell'd, and all
The Fraud deluded of proud Hannibal.
Most Noble General! Who Troy again,
Lapsing to Ruin, dost alone sustain,
And sinking Italy! Who dost uphold
Evander's Empire, and whate're of old
The Labours of our Fathers gain'd in Wars,
Go on, and raise thy Name unto the Stars.
But, when new Titles had proclaim'd the Choice
Of the Dictatour, by the publick Voice,
The Libyan Prince, revolving in his Minde,
That something of Importance had inclin'd
The Romanes to that Change of their Command,
So suddenly, desir'd to understand
What was the Fortune of the Man, what were
His Honours, or why Fabius should appear
Their last, safe Authour, in Distress? Why He,
After so many Storms, by Rome should be
Thought equal unto Hannibal? and yet
It vex'd him, that his Years did want that Heat,
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That might expose him, through Temerity,
To his Deceits, and therefore instantly
He for a Captive calls, t'enquire of all
His Customs, Actions, and Original.
Cilnius, a Youth, and of a Noble Name,
From fair Aretium to Ticinus came,
In an unhappy Hour, and by a Wound,
That overthrew his Horse, fal'n to the Ground:
His Neck to Libyan Chains then yielded. He,
Desirous by his Death himself to free,
The Libyan thus informs. Thou hast not, now,
With fierce Flaminius (said He) to do,
Or Gracchus rash Resolves: his Family
From the Tyrinthian Gods deriv'd; had he
Within thy Countrey (Hannibal) been born,
Carthage the World's Imperial Crown had Worn.
With a long Series I'le not strive to show
Particulars: let this suffice, to know
The Fabii, by one Combat having broke
The Peace, and shaken off the Romane Yoak,
The bold Veientes brought the War's Alarms
Ev'n to our Gates; the Consul cites to Arms
Th'old listed Bands; Alcides Progeny
Fills up a private Camp; one Family
Sends a Patrician Army to the Fight,
Three hundred Captains (each whereof you might
Trust safely with the Conduct of a War)
Appear. But, going forth, they threatned are
With dire Presages. Conscious of their Fate,
The trembling Threshold of the Guilty Gate
Sends forth a fatal Sound: that Altar roar'd
Where chiefly the Tyrinthian God's ador'd.
Yet they invade the Fo, and with so fierce
A Valour charge, that their small Number scarce
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Could be distinguish'd, and their Slaughters are,
More then the Souldiers: oftentimes the War,
In Globes compacted close, they entertain.
As oft dispers'd, in Parties, through the Plain,
They Dangers meet. Equal in Labours all,
And Valour, merit to the Capitol
To lead three hundred Triumphs: but, Alass,
How vain those Hopes! each Man forgetfull was
How soon all things, that humane are, decline!
These men, disdaining, while the Fabian Line
Was safe, that Publick Wars should waged be;
Incompass'd by a sudden Enemy,
Fell, by the Envy of the Gods! but yet
Thou hast no Cause of Joy, in their Defeat,
For the Surviver is enough for Thee,
And Libya: as with all their Hands will He
Alone contend; his Limbs so Active are,
So Circumspect his Industry, and Care,
Secur'd with cautious Ease. Not you, whose Veins,
Swell'd high with youthfull Blood, can with the Reins
Sooner restrain, nor prick the Warlike Steed
Into the Battel, with more furious Speed.
But Hannibal perceiving, as He spoke,
He coveted to dy: Thou dost provoke
In vain (thou Fool) our Rage, and seek'st to free
Thy self from Bondage by Thy Death (said He)
No, Thou shalt live, and straiter Chains shall press
Thy captive Neck. Thus, swelling with Success,
And the propitious Gods, he vents his Scorn.
But, by Religion, to the Altars born,
The Fathers, and the Latine Dames, their Eyes
With Sorrow fill'd: in order'd Companies,
A Robe, and Vows, to Juno offer, Hear
Oh Queen of Gods! lend us a willing Ear,
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We, a Chast People, pray Thee. We, who be
The chief of the Ausonians, to Thee
This fair, and venerable Garment, wrought
By our own Hands, with Threds of Gold, have brought,
And till the Fears of Mothers do decrease,
This shall Thy Vesture be. And, if Thou please,
That this Marmarick Cloud we may behold
Far scatter'd from Our Land, a Crown of Gold,
Enlai'd with various Gemms, to Thee shall shine.
This Goddess thus ador'd: to Pallas Shrine,
They proper Off'rings bring, then worship Thee
Venus, and Phœbus, and the Deity
Of War: from the approach of Miseries,
So great a Rev'rence of the Gods doth rise.
The Happy seldom to their Altars come.
While antient Honours in Her Temples Rome
Thus celebrates: great Fabius takes the Field,
With his well-order'd Troops; and, as most skil'd
In Warlike Arts, like one Secure, though Slow,
All Avenues 'gainst Fortune, and the Fo
Blocks up, and from their Ensigns suffers none
To stray; and that, which, chiefly, Thee doth Crown
(Brave Romane) and thy Empire's Head so high
Hath lifted, taught thy Souldiers to obey.
But, when, from far, their Ensigns, all in View,
Upon the Hills, and all the Troops in new
Bright Arms appear'd: the Libyan Hopes swell high,
And Hannibal, with His Prosperity
Enflam'd, believ'd His Victorie's Delay
Was onely, that the Armies in Array
Were not drawn forth to fight. Go on (said He)
Quickly assault their Ports; let their Works be
Ev'n by your Breasts o'rethrown: I'me sure the Fo
No longer hath to Live, then We can go
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Over the Plain between Us: for, to War
Their Sedentary old Men cited are,
With whom to fight, I am, almost, asham'd.
What you now see, are their Remains, disclaim'd
As wholly useless, in the former War.
Where is their Gracchus now? Or now where are
Those Thunderbolts, the Scipios? expell'd
From Italy, they ne're their Flight with held;
Till, frighted, to the farthest Part they came
O'th' Earth, and Sea. Now, trembling at Our Name,
Both wander, and Iberus Banks defend,
And where We are not, there a War pretend.
I, likewise, from Flaminius Death may claim
In crease of Honour, and his Active Name
In War, among my other Titles lay.
How many years this Sword shall take away
From Fabius? Yet he dares, but let him dare;
I'le make, Me shall no more in Arms appear.
This spoke aloud, His Troops with furious Speed,
He leadeth on, and mounted on His Steed,
Sometimes with His Right Hand provokes His Foes;
Sometimes upbraids them; then, at Distance, throws
A Dart, insulting in His Armie's Sight,
Shewing the Image of a future Fight.
So Thetis Son, in the Dardanian Field,
Bore his Vulcanian Arms, and in his Shield,
Express'd the Earth, and Heav'n, and 's Mother curl'd
With Waves; and, in that Figure, all the World.
But Fabius, carefull to delay, sits still,
And his vain Fury, on a lofty Hill,
Beholding, checks his proud insulting Mind,
And tires his furious Threats, while he declin'd
The Fight. So when by Night a Shepheard keeps
His Flocks in fenced Folds, and safely sleeps,
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The hungry Wolves fierce Howlings round about,
Streight raise, and gnaw the Fence that keeps them out.
The Libyans Design, thus render'd vain,
Thence with his Army, through th'Appulian Plain,
He slowly march'd; and, sometimes, closely sate,
Conceal'd in Vallies, to precipitate,
His following Fo, or try, if He might be
Surpriz'd, unwarily, by Policy.
Sometimes by secret Waies, He steals by Night,
And then Retreats in a pretended Fright.
Then from his Camp, full of rich Plunder goes,
And prodigally thus invites his Foes.
So, with innumerable turnings through
Mæonian Plains, doth fam'd Mæander flow.
Nothing that Fraud can do, is left untry'd.
He trurns o're all, and all his Thoughts apply'd,
To various Attempts. As when the Sun
Shining on Water, by Reflection,
Leaps on the Houses tops, and glistering sheds
In constant Raies, and dancing Shadows spreads
Upon the Roofs. Now mad with Grief, alone,
Thus to His Sacred Rage He makes his Moan.
If He, at first, Our Enemy had been,
The Names of Trebia, and of Thrasimen
Had ne're been known. Nor had they given to Us
New Titles, nor had stain'd Erydanus,
Troubled with bloody Waves, the frighted Sea.
But he, while we are tyr'd with his Delay,
And he contains himself, hath found a new
Strange Way to Victory. How oft, in Shew
Of meeting Us, hath he Our Plots o'rethrown,
With Judgement, and Our Stratagems undone?
Thus to Himself; when the Shrill Trumpets Sound,
Midnight Proclaim'd: but when the third watch, round
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The Camp, new Centinels had call'd to stand,
He turns his Course, and leaving Daunus Land
Behind, to the Campanian Coasts his Way
He takes, well known, as greedy after Prey.
Here, when he entred the Falernian Fields,
(That Land is Rich, and constant Profit yields
To the laborious Swains) he straitway throws
His Hostile Flames, among the fruitfull Boughs.
But here, Lyæus, though great Actions be
Our Theme, the Mention of Thine Honour We
Must not pass by in Silence: but Record
Thy Praise, who dost that Sacred Juice afford;
Whose Vines, with Nectar swell'd, a Nobler Name,
Then the Falernian Press, can never claim.
Falernus old, in better Times, did Plow
The Massick Hills (they then no Swords did know)
The Vine-Leavs then, within the naked Field,
Did not, with swelling Grapes, green Shadows yield:
Nor knew they how to mix Lyæus Blood
Among their Cups; but in some Chrystal Flood,
Or Spring, their Thirst allai'd. An happy Hour
Thither Lyæus, going to the Shore
Of Calpe, and the Bounds of Day, a Guest
Did bring. Nor did the Deity detest
A low, poor Cottage; but he enters, and
The smoaky Room, and Table, that did stand
Before the Chimney (as the Custom was
Of that poor Age, receive him. But, Alass,
The Host, whosechearfull Looks his Joy exprest
Did not perceive a God was then his Guest;
And yet, as his Fore-Fathers us'd to do,
Spar'd not his Age, from running to, and fro;
Most kindly busie: till his choicest Chear
He brought: there Cornels in neat Baskets; here
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Fresh, from his watry Hort-yards, Juicy Fruits
Serv'd in: then Hony-Combs, and Milk he puts,
As Dainties, 'mong the rest; and, all the while,
Nothing of Blood the Table doth defile:
But, Ceres Gifts brought in, he doth compose
The Fire, into the midst whereof he throws,
His Sacrifice. Pleas'd with the Old Man's Care,
The God resolv'd, his Liquour should be there;
When suddenly ('t is very strange to tell)
The Cups of Beech with Wine begin to swell,
As the Reward of his poor Entertain.
The Milk-Pail too with Blushing Wine began
To overflow: and from an hollow Oak,
Into a Goblet, the sweet Liquour broke
From the well-sented Grapes: Here, take, and store
Thy self (Lyæus said) with what before
Thou did'st not know: but which Falernus Name,
For Nobler Vines, hereafter shall proclaim.
With that the God himself reveal'd, and round,
With Purple Raies, and Ivy Garland Crown'd
His shining Front, about his Neck he flung;
His Locks, in his Right Hand a Tankard hung,
And, fallen from his Thyrsus, Vines about
The Table, with Nisæan Branches, sprout.
Nor could Falernus with the pleasant Tast
Contend, when some few Cups about had past.
Now with his Foot, or stamm'ring Tongue, he makes
The God to laugh, while the strong Liquour shakes
His Brains, and he endeavours to make good
Return of Thanks, in Words scarce understood,
Till Sleep (which Bacchus still accompanies,
Wheree're he goes) compos'd his struggling Eyes.
But, when the rising Sun dispers'd the Dew,
The Massick Swains, with Admiration, view
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Their fields with vines, like groves, most richly crown'd,
And, with the Sun, the Branches shining, round
The Hill, their Glory spread, and since that hour
Rich Tmolus, and Arvisian Cups, that pour
Ambrosian Liquour forth, and thy fam'd Field,
Fertile Methymna, to Falernus yield.
Through this, the Libyan (like a Fury) past
And all the Countrey round about, lai'd wast:
Incited by His Men, whose Swords pursu'd
Their thirst of Blood. While Fabius doth delude
Their General: And now a mad Desire
Of fighting, the Ausonian Camp doth fire;
All covet, in that Madness to descend
Into the Plain. My Muse, let us commend
The Man, whom Fate permitted to subdue
Both Armies, and their Fury overthrew.
If Me the Senate had believ'd to be
Of such hot Temper, and so Rash (said he)
Or that such Clamours, easily, my Minde
Could shake, they had not, when the State declin'd,
Giv'n me the Conduct of this desp'rate War.
My Resolutions of a Battel are
Already fix'd, it shall my Conquest be
To keep you safe (that urge so eagerly
Your Fate) against your Will: none of you all
By Fabius shall have Liberty to fall.
If weary of the Light, you now desire,
That the Ausonian Name with you Expire:
Or if it grieves you, that, at such a time,
No Place is rendred Famous, by the Crime
Of some new Mischief, or notorious Blow:
Recall Flaminius from the Shades below,
A Signal, by his late Temerity,
And Auspicies you have. Do ye not see
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A Precipice, and your approaching Fate?
Consider; to the Ruin of the State,
One Victorie's enough for Hannibal.
Stay then, and understand your General;
When the wish'd Time shall come, that may require
Your Hands, then let those furious Words conspire
With Deeds; beleive Me, 'tis an easie thing
To go to fight: should we now open fling
Our Ports, one Hour, you all into the Field
May pour: but they, to whom the Gods shall yield
A kinde, and mild Aspect, as forth they go,
Shall have that Bliss alone to scape the Fo,
And safe return. The Libyan relyes
Upon His Fortune, and His Vessel flies
With a propitious Wind, and, till that Gale
Shall slack, and cease to fill his swelling Sail,
It must of Business be, and constant Care
To seek Delaies. Fortune's Imbraces are
Perpetual to none; see! how much less
The Tyrian Forces are: how they decrease
In Fame, since We declin'd the Fight. And We,
'Mong other things, for this may praised be
That they, who—But it is better far, that I
Forbear more Words: You now the Enemy.
A Battel, and Pitcht-field require. Oh! may
This Confidence be such another Day,
Ye Gods! In the mean time, excluding all
Chances of greater Dangers, that may fall
Upon you, and My Countrey, pray let Me,
To the whole War, alone opposed be;
These Words their furious Arms, and Rage appease
As when his calmer Brow the God of Seas
Lifts 'bove the troubled Waves, and views the Main,
As Lord, and is by it beheld again:
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The raging Winds their cruel Murmurs cease,
Nor move the Wings upon their Foreheads: Peace
Is soon diffus'd o're all the calmed Brine,
And, on the silent Shore, smooth Waters shine.
This by the Libyan's subtile Care descry'd,
Strait by the Poison of his Plots, he try'd
Their Minds. For Fabius, as his Father's Heir,
Plow'd a few Acres, which the Name did bear
Of Massicus, Renown'd for Gen'rous Vines:
These, to advance his mischeivous Designs
(Which, through the Camp, ambiguous Rumours spread)
From Fire, and Sword his spar'd: this Plot soon bred
Suspicion of the Quiet of that Place,
As if that He did privately imbrace
A League to lengthen out the War. But all
The cunning Stratagems of Hannibal
The wise Dictatour saw, and understood.
But among Swords, and Trumpets, thought it good
To scorn their Envy: nor, the Wounds to shun
Of Fame, the Hazard of a Fight to run.
Till wandring up, and down, and oft in vain,
Moving his Camp, now here, now there, to gain
Occasion to fight, the Libyan He
Enclos'd, where Woods, and rocky Hills we see,
With his divided Troops. Here Him behind
The lofty Læstrigonian Rooks confin'd:
There, with its Moorish Grounds, Linternum was.
No use of Souldiers, or of Swords the place
Affords; but there, severest Famine all
The Plagues, that lost Sagunthus did befall,
Exacting, them oppress'd, and Fate an End
Seem'd to the Arms of Carthage to intend.
Now Sleep, all Things by Sea, and Land, did hide
With's gloomy Wings, and having lai'd aside
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The Labours of the Day, the pleasing Rest,
Granted to men by Night, the World possest.
But the Sidonian General the Cares,
That then enflam'd His Heart, and watchfull Fears,
Rob'd of the Benefits of Night; while He
Left His unquiet Bed, and suddenly
Cov'ring his Shoulder with a Lyon's Skin,
That lately spread upon the Grass had been,
His Pallat, in the Field, to's Brother's Tent,
(From's Own not distant far) directly went.
He, not degenerate in Martial Rites,
On a Bull's Hide then slept, and, by the Night's
Great Blessing, eas'd His pensive Thoughts, and near
Fix'd in the Earth, upright, his Fatal Spear,
On which His Helmet hung: upon the Ground
His Breast-plate, Sword, and Shield, about it round,
His Bow, and Balearick Sling. Not far
From these a Youthfull Troop, all try'd in War,
Lay sleeping on the Earth, and near at Hand
His Horse, caparison'd, doth grazing stand.
His Entrance Mago wakes. Brother, (said He)
(With that takes up his Arms) What is't, that Thee
Thus stupifies? Then Mago rose, and all
His Troop, then lying on the Ground, doth call
With Speed to Arms. Then Hannibal began;
Us Fabius, that so vigilant Old Man,
The sole Delay to Our Propitious Fates,
Thus indispos'd by Night, exasperates
To Cares. You see how We encompass'd are
With armed Bands, and how the Souldier,
Collected in a Ring, doth Us invest,
But now (since Our Affairs are thus distrest)
Consider My Design. We have within
The Camp an Herd of Oxen, that have been
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Plunder'd from all the Countrey round, and now
(As Custom is) march with the Army: to
The Horns, and Fronts of some of these, will I
Give a Command dry Twigs, and Sticks to ty;
Which fir'd, when once the Heat shall scatter'd be,
The Oxen, sensible of Pain, will flee,
And on their Necks the wandring Flames will bear
O're all the Hill: then, seiz'd with sudden Fear,
Their Centinels will from their Stations runs
And fear, that something more by Night is done.
If this you like, (Extream Resolves delay
Refuse) Let's do't said; He. With that away
They go to other Tents, where in the Field,
Upon the Ground, his Head upon his Shield,
'Mong Horses, Men, and Spoils, that by his Hand
In Fight were taken, and with Slaughter stain'd,
Mighty Maraxes lay, and in his Sleep,
A dreadfull Cry, as if engaged deep
In Fight, by Chance then gave, and felt about
With's trembling Hand to finde his Weapons out,
And his try'd Sword. Thus warring, Mago shakes
The Man; and, with his Spear inverted, wakes:
Captain, since now 'tis dark, thy Fury lay
Aside, reserve thy Valour for the Day;
With Policy we now must use the Night
For safe Retreat, and to conceal our Flight:
Into the Woods my Brother doth intend
With kindled Boughs ty'd to the Horns, to send
The Oxen, where the Passes guarded be
By Hostile Bands, and so our Army free.
Let us be gone, and this Design shall be
A Document to Fabius, that we
With Policy contend. He makes no Stay,
But, joy'd at what He spoke, they haste away
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To stout Acherra's Tent; who, satisfi'd
With little Rest, or Ease, had never try'd
His Sleep to lengthen with the Night; but still
On Horse-back, as perpetual Centinel,
Serv'd, and was wont to ease his weary Steed,
By dressing him, and alwaies Bridled feed.
Now all their Weapons whet, and the dry'd Gore
Wipe from the Steel, and to their Swords restore
Their Sharpness: what the Fortune of the Place,
And Time requir'd, and what their Duty was
Declar'd; advising, that whoe're did go
As Chief in the Design, might not be Slow.
Then through the Camp the Word, and Orders, run,
All mutually instruct what's to be done;
And importune, they may no longer stay:
Their Fears inciting all to haste away,
While yet the dark, and silent Night might hide
Their Flight. Then, to the Boughs the Fire apply'd,
From their large Horns the Flames aspiring rose.
The Mischief, in an Instant, greater grows,
And th'Oxen, shaking their tormented Heads,
Fan out a Pyramis of Fire that spreads
It's Basis largely, and o'recomes the Smoak.
The Beasts, affrighted, through the Forest broke;
Then o're the Hills, and, Rocky Mountains fly,
As they were mad, and as their Nostrils by
The Flames besieged are, they labour oft
In vain to bellow, while o're Cliffs, aloft,
Through Vallies Vulcan wanders, and ne're stands
At all; but, shining on the Neighb'ring Sands,
As manifold appears, as when at Sea
In a clear Night the Mariners survey
Innumerable Stars: Or when upon
Garganus Top, a Shepheard, sitting down,
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Beneath him sees Calabrian Forrests burn,
Which Husbandmen to fertile Pastures turn;
O're all the Hills the Flames with such a Face
Appear to fly; and they, whose Chance it was
To be the Guard, believ'd they Wandring fled,
None scatt'ring them, and that they, Furious, fed
Within the Hills: some thought, that Jove had thrown,
From his incensed Hand, his Thunder down:
Others, that kindled Sulphur gave them Birth,
And, from her secret Caves, th'unhappy Earth,
Condemn'd to greater Ruins, threw the Fire.
The Rutuli, affrighted, strait retire,
And from their Station fly. Then Hannibal,
With speedy Arms, possess'd Himself of all
The Passes; and, advantag'd by their Fears,
Insulting in the open Field, appears.
Yet vigilant, in Conduct of the War,
The wise Dictatour had advanc'd as far,
As Trebia, and behind him left the Sea
Of Tuscany; that it enough might be
For Hannibal, the Romane Arms to shun,
And Fabius: who after him had gone,
And with his Army close pursu'd his Flight,
But that some Sacred Rites did him invite
To his Paternal Gods. Then as to Rome
He took his Way, a valiant Youth, to whom
The chief Command, and Conduct of the War
Was giv'n, He thus with Counsel doth prepare.
If by the Fortune of my Actions, Thou
(Minutius) hast not yet Learn'd to allow
Things warily perform'd, nor Words can Thee
Lead to true Honour, or invite to flee
Unworthy things: Thou hast seen Hannibal
Besieg'd. 'Twas not the Souldier, nor all
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Our Wings, nor our throng'd Legions, (I Thee
Attest) perform'd it; but 'twas done by Me.
I, from the Camp, will not be long away,
Onely permit, that to the Gods I pay
A solemn Sacrifice, and Him again
Shut up by Floods, or Hills (if you refrain
From fighting,) will I give into your Hands.
In the mean time believe Me (for it stands
With my Experience) in distress'd Affairs
'Tis Safety to sit still, though it appears
Honour to many (and may please them too,
As the most glorious Conquest, to subdue
An Enemy by fighting,) yet to Me
To keep You safe, it shall a Triumph be.
I a full Camp leave in thy Hands, and Men
Free from all Wounds: to give them such agen
To Me, thy Glory, and Renown shall be.
The Libyan Lyon Thou, perhaps, shalt see
These Works assaulting. Sometimes off'ring Prey
T'entice Thee out: sometimes to flee away,
As if He fear'd thine Arms; but all the while
He thinks on Fraud, and doth with Fury boil.
'Tis His Desire to fight; but let Thy Stay
Within the Camp take all those Hopes away.
Let this Advice suffice: but if Thy Minde,
And Courage, my Entreaty cannot binde:
I, as Dictatour, by a pious Right,
And strict Command, conjure Thee not to fight.
The Camp, by his Advice, thus fortified
He, Pious, left; and to the City hied.
But, now, behold! with prosp'rous Winds before
The Læstrigonian, and Cajetan Shore
A Libyan Navy plows the Sea, and comes
Into the Port, and all the Ocean foams
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With num'rous Oars: when, from their chrystal Caves,
Affrighted with the Noise, above the Waves,
The Sea-Nymphs rise, and see the Shore possess'd
By Hostile Ships, that then disturb'd their Rest:
Then, full of Fear, with Speed, they all repair,
To those known Coasts, by them frequented, where
Teleboæ's Kingdoms 'midst the Ocean rise,
And hollow Thrones, where mighty Proteus lyes
Within a broken Cave, and largely laves
The adverse Rocks (a Prophet) with his Waves.
He (for he all things knew, and what they fear'd)
When chang'd in various Shapes he had appear'd,
And scar'd them, hissing like a dreadfull Snake,
Then roaring like a Lyon fierce, thus spake.
What is it, Nymphs, that brings you hither? tell;
Why doth that Paleness in your Faces dwell?
Why seek ye, what hereafter shall befall
To know? To this the Eldest, then, of all
The Italian Nymphs, Cymodoce, replies.
Thou know'st, already, whence our Fears arise.
What doth this Carthaginian Fleet, that thus
Deprives us of our Coast, portend to us?
Must the Rhætean Empire cross the Seas
To other Gods? Or, Tyrian Seamen these
Our Ports possess? Or, from our Native Seat
Exil'd, must we to Atlas now retreat;
And dwell in Calpe's farthest Caves? Then he,
Rehearsing things long past, ambiguously,
Thus undertakes to shew ensuing Fate.
On Ida, when the Phrygian Heards-man sate,
And, calling back his stragling Bulls to feed
In fertile Meadows, with his Pipe of Reed,
The fam'd Dispute of Sacred Beauty heard:
Then Cupid, who solicitous appear'd
199

T'observe the Time, the Snow-white Cygnets, joyn'd,
To's Mother's Chariot, drove: a Quiver shin'd
Upon his Shoulder, and a golden Bow,
And, with a nod to let his Mother know
There was no cause to fear, shew'd he had brought
That Quiver to her Aid, with Arrows fraught.
Some of his Brothers comb her Golden Hair
Upon her Jv'ry Fore-head; others are
Imploy'd. Her flowing Garments to compose
When sighing from her Lips, that like a Rose
Blush'd, to her Sons this Language fell. You see
The Day, that must a faithfull Witness be
Of your great Piety to Me. Oh! who
Would e're have this believ'd, so long as you
Are safe, that Venus Beauty, and her Face
Should question'd be? (For now what other Grace
Remains to us?) if my Artillery,
Infected with most pleasing Poison, I
To You committed have, by which you aw
Your Grand-sire at your Pleasure (who gives Law
To Heav'n, and Earth) then by my Victory
O're Juno, and Minerva, let me see
Cyprus with Idumæan Palms abound,
And Paphos with an hundred Altars Crown'd.
While to her winged Boys thus Venus talks,
A gentle Eccho, as the Goddess walks,
Runs through the Grove: and then the warlike Maid
Her Ægis lai'd aside, her Hair displai'd,
(That lately by her Helmet had been press'd)
In Curls with Art, and neatly Comb'd, and dress'd
And, Peace enthron'd in her Serener Eys,
With Speed unto the Place appointed hies.
Saturnia enters on the other side,
After her Brother's Bed, resolving Ide
200

The Trojan's Judgment, and Disdain to bear.
Last, Cytherea, smiling, doth appear,
And through the Grove, and Caves, within the Rocks
Sheds fragrant Odours from her Sacred Locks.
Nor could the Judge endure to keep his Place:
But, dazzled by the Beauty of her Face,
Fear'd onely, lest he should appear to her
To doubt. The vanquish'd Goddesses transfer
Fierce Wars beyond the Seas, and Troy was soon,
With her unhappy Judge, quite overthrown.
Pious Æneas then by Sea, and Land
Toss'd up, and down, in Latium takes his Stand,
With his Dardanian Gods: while Whales within
The Ocean shall swim, and Stars shall shine
In Heaven, and Phœbus from the Indian Main
Shall rise, so long his Progeny shall reign.
No Bounds of Time their Rule shall terminate:
But you, my Daughters, while the Thread of Fate
Doth run, the Dang'rous Sands of Sasson flee.
We Aufidus, swell'd high with Blood, shall see
Driving his purple Waves into the Main:
And you, Ætolian Shades, shall, once again,
Fight with the Teucri, in that Field, so long
Ago condemn'd by an Immortal Song.
Then Punick Darts the Romane Walls shall shake,
And Hasdrubal Metaurus Flood shall make
To shine with Slaughter. And then He, that was
So secretly begot, by Jove's Imbrace,
With a severe Revenge shall expiate,
At once his Uncle's, and His Father's Fate,
Then shall he fill with Flames Eliza's Shore,
And force the Libyan, tormenting sore
The Bowels of Italy, to hasten Home,
And Him in His own Countrey overcome.
201

Carthage in Arms shall yield to Him, and He
Shall from the Name of Africk Famous be.
From Him another shall arise, by whom
The third fierce War shall be subdu'd, and Rome
See him Triumphant, after Byrsa's Fall,
Bring Libya's Ashes to the Capitol.
While He the Secrets of the Gods detects;
Thus in his Cave, Minutius rejects
Both Fabius, and his Counsel, and, with Rage
Possess'd, the Fo endeavours to engage:
Nor was the Libyan wanting to foment,
And feed his Fury. But, with an Intent
T'entice him, to embrace a greater Fight,
With little Loss, sometimes dissembles Flight.
As when the Fish, allur'd by scatter'd Baits
In some clear Brook, forsake their deep Retreats,
And swimming near the Water's Surface shine,
The cunning Angler, with his twisted Line,
Soon drags them to the Shore. Now Fame, which lies
Among the Romanes, like a Fury, flies.
Telling the Fo was turn'd, and Hannibal
In Flight his Safety found: an End of all
Their Miseries, did then at Hand appear,
If they to Overcome permitted were.
But, that their Valour had no other Guid,
The one, that did sad Punishments provide
For such, as were victorious 'gainst his Will.
That He within the Camp would shut them still,
And give Command to sheath their Swords again,
That so he might a just Account maintain
In Arms, and Souldiers give a Reason, why
They dare to overcome the Enemy.
The Vulgar murmure thus: and Juno sires
The Senate's Minds with Envy, and Desires
202

Of Popular Air. Then, madly, they decree
Things not to be believ'd, and such as be
The Wish of Hannibal: such, as they soon,
With too great Danger, wish they ne're had done.
For now the Army is divided, and
Minutius shares with Fabius in Command.
The old Dictatour, free from Passion, saw,
And fear'd the Ills, that rash Resolv might draw
Upon his Countrey: therefore, full of Care,
And Pensive, to the Camp return'd, and there
Sharing his Social Forces, all the Hills,
Adjoyning, with his Neighb'ring Eagles fills;
And there, at once, observes the Libyan's Power,
And Romane Army, from a lofty Tower.
While Mad to perish, or destroy his Foes
With sudden Fury rash Minutius throws
The Ramparts down: and when, on either Side,
Here the Dictatour, there the Libyan spy'd
Him marching forth; their Minds with diff'rent Care,
This to destroy, that to preserve him, are
Inflam'd. But He to Arm with Speed commands;
And leads, from all Defence, his hasty Bands.
The Libyan Captain pours into the Fight
His Forces all, and thus doth them incite:
While the Dictatour (Souldiers) is away,
Go on, and bravely use this fighting Day
Behold! the Gods now to your Wishes yield,
Off'ring a Battel in an open Field.
And, since this Opportunity is gain'd,
Your Weapons cleanse, that have so long been stain'd
With Rust, and satisfie your Swords with Blood.
This Fabius observing, as he stood
Viewing the Champagn Ground, (And Thou, Alass!
Oh Rome! did'st sadly Learn what Fabius was
203

In so great Danger) this rash Boy (said he)
Now my Colleague in Arms, shall punish'd be,
As he deserves, that through so blind, and mad
A Vote, with so much Danger, durst invade
Our Fasces. Peevish Tribes! how slipp'ry are
Your Pulpits, see? with what vain men the Bar,
And Forum's throng'd! Now let the Offices
Of War by them be equall'd, and Decrees
Ordain the Sun to yield unto the Night.
Their Weakness, the rash Errour of this Fight
Shall quickly rue, and all the Wrongs, which they,
Upon our common Parent, bring this Day.
With that he shook his Spear, and, as a Flood
Of Tears gush'd from his Eyes, with Tyrian Blood
(Said he) my Son, these sad Complaints must be
Suppress'd by Thee. Shall I endure to see
A Citizen destroy'd before my Face,
And these our Troops? Or, while I am in place,
Permit the Libyan conquer? If my Heart
Were such, they'd seem less Guilty, that did part,
And equal us: but this, my Son, believe,
And from thy aged Sire, as Truth, receive;
To be incens'd, against our Countrey, is
A Sin so great, that none, to the Abyss
Of Hell, can with a fowler Crime descend.
This our Fore-Fathers did to us commend;
And thus how good, how great, exil'd from home,
And banish'd long, did'st thou (Camillus) come
Into the Capitol! How many there
By thy condemned Hand then slaughter'd were!
Had not thy Thoughts been calm, or had thy Minde
At all, to Anger, or Revenge, inclin'd
Æneas Throne had chang'd its Place, and thou
Great Rome hadst not, upon thy Hills, as now
204

Stood Head of all the World. Therefore, my Son,
Let all Displeasure, for my Sake, be gone;
Let's hast to aid them with our Social Arms.
With that, the Trumpet's intermix'd Alarms
Sound through the Camp; and all with such a Force
Rush on, they bruise each other in their Course.
First, the Dictatour all Things, that withstand
His Speed, the Gates, and Bars, with his own Hand
O'returns, and to the Battel breaks his Way.
With such a Fury Winds contend at Sea,
When Boreas sally's from th'Odrysian Coast,
And, with like Rage, by Africus is crost:
The Sea's distracted, and to sev'ral Shores
Each drives the Billows; while the Tempest roars,
And the whole Ocean, wheresoe're it goes,
Obeys now here, now there, with furious Throws.
So much of Honour could not rise from all
Phœnicia subdu'd, or Byrsa's Fall;
As this great Injury, which first did spring
From private Envy, did of Glory bring
To the Dictatour. For, by's Conduct there,
At once, He all those Difficulties, Fear,
Envy, and Passion, with malicious Fame,
And Hannibal, and Fortune, overcame.
When Hannibal perceiv'd them run amain,
Down from the lofty Camp, into the Plain,
His Courage trembled; and, with Sighs, soon all
His former Hopes of their Destruction fall.
For He the Romanes had encompass'd round,
With num'rous Bands; not doubting to confound
Them, so enclos'd, by Darts, that on them fall
On ev'ry side. And, then, their General
Already, griev'd for that unhappy Fight,
The Stygian Waters, and eternal Night,
205

Had entred in his Thoughts, with sad Despair:
Asham'd to hope, that Fabius would be there
To his Assistance. But two valiant Wings,
Circling the Battel, the Dictatour brings
To His Relief, and then, encompassing
The Libyan Army with a larger Ring,
Their utmost Troops behinde invests; and those,
That late besieg'd the Romanes, doth enclose.
Alcides made him Higher rise in Fight,
And to appear much Greater to their Sight:
His lofty Crest, ('t was strange) ejecting Rays,
In active Vigour soon it self displaies
Through all his Members; while He Jav'lins throws,
And storms, with Clouds of wounding Darts, his Foes.
(Such, before he was Old, in Prime of all
His years, in War the Pylian General
Appear'd.) Then, rushing on, he Turis sent
To Hell, and stout Malêo, confident
To Cope with any; who was known to Fame,
And by his Spear had gain'd himself a Name.
Then Butes, Maris, Arses, Garadus,
Long-hair'd Adherbes, and conspicuous
For Height, 'bove both the Armies, Tylis dies;
Who, on the highest Fortress, could surprize
The Battlements. These, at a Distance, all,
With Darts; but Saph'arus, and Monesus, fall
By's Sword: with them, Morînus, as he sounds
To Fight with his shrill Brass, he deadly wounds
On the Right Cheek; and, by the dying Blast
Expell'd, the Blood quite through the Trumpet past,
From's wounded Jaws, Idmon, the next to him;
Who, us'd o're Nasamonian Sands to swim,
Dy'd by his Lance: for slipping, where he stood,
Upon a Place, o'reflown with reaking Blood,
206

Endeav'ring to recover's Feet again,
And shun that slipp'ry Place, Fabius, amain,
Upon him spurs his Horse, and to the Ground
Nails him with's Spear; which, left within the Wound,
Though trembling with his Motion, firmely held
His Carcass down, and fix'd it to the Field.
Honour's Example likewise fires the Minde
Of Sylla, Crassus, and Metellus, joyn'd
With Fannius, and Torquatus, strong in Fight
Above the rest: all these, in Fabius Sight,
Engage amid'st their Foes. But here, in hast
Retiring to avoid a Stone was cast
Against him, Bibulus, unhappy, on
An Heap of slaughter'd Friends fell backward down,
And where his Brigandine was gaping wide,
Unhasp'd by frequent Blows, quite through his Side
A Weapon's point, that in a Body stuck
By Chance, upright into his Bowels struck.
Sad Fate! hee'd 'scap'd Marmarick Troops, and all
The Garamantian Darts, that he might fall
By a neglected Lance, that was not thrown,
With an intent to wound him. Breathless down
He tumbled, horrid Paleness strait involv'd
His youthfull beauteous Face, and Life dissolv'd,
Through all his Limbs; his Arms hang loose, and Sleep,
With Stygian Darkness, through his Eys doth creep.
From Tyrian Sydon, sprang of Cadmus Race,
Excited by his Nephews, Cleadas
Came to the War, and, proud of the Command,
Among his Aids, a brave Eöan Band
Of Archers led: rich Gems all over deck
His golden Cask, and Chains about his Neck:
Such, when late wash'd, and from the Ocean rais'd
The Usher of the Morn, by Venus prais'd,
207

Contends with other Stars. In Purple He,
His Horse in Purple, all his Company
In Tyrian Purple shin'd. He, as he wheel'd
His Steed to th'Right, and Left, about the Field,
Deluding Brutus, eager of the Fight,
That, by his Hand, a Name so famous might
Extinguish'd be, an Arrow, Parthian-like,
Backward lets flie, nor doth it vainly strike;
But in his Armour-Bearer Casca's Chin
It sticks, and, penetrating deeply in,
The Point, obliquely wounding, upward struck
To his moist Pallet, and within it stuck.
But Brutus troubled at his Friend's sad Fate,
Him, that so oft, did thus disseminate,
In seeming Flight, his cruel Shafts, no more
Sought with his nimble Courser, as before,
To overtake: but, his whole Fury to
His Lance committing, the swift Weapon threw
From the loose Thong, and where the Chains devest,
Loosen'd by running to, and fro, his Breast,
Into the upper Part, a deadly Wound
The fixed Cornel gave: down to the Ground
He dying sinks, and in his Fall lets go,
From his right Hand the Shaft, his Left the Bow.
But, with a better Fate, Charmelus (who
Soracte's Honour was) did then pursue
The Fight; for he his Sword with Blood had stain'd
Of Bragad, who o're Juba's People reign'd:
Zeusis (who of Spartan Phalanthus Race;
A Race implacable, derived was,
And whom his Mother, a Phœnician, bare
T'a fam'd Laconian) by him likewise there
Was slain. But Nampsicus, not daring to
Appear in Fight, before so fierce a Fo,
208

Nor yet, as Fear perswaded, thence to fly,
Crep'd through the Bushes to an Oak, that nigh
Did stand, and climbing to the Top, among
The shady Leavs conceal'd himself, and hung
Upon the Boughs, that trembled with his Weight,
Him begging, earnestly, to shun his Fate,
And leaping, fearfull, oft from Bough to Bough,
Furious Carmelus with a Pike quite through
The Body pierc'd (the Fowler so in Groves
His Lime-Twigs lai'd, when as his Mark removes
In silence strives, on tallest Trees with Aim
To strike, with his encreasing Shaft, his Game)
His Life, and Blood gush out, and, as it flows,
The pallid Corps hangs on the bending Boughs.
The Romanes, now the Tyrians put to Flight,
Closely pursue. When of stupendous Height
Upon a sudden, a most dreadfull Moor
Breaks forth, his Limbs black as the Arms he wore.
Their lofty Mains his sooty Horses rear,
And all his Chariot, with new Arts, that Fear
Might move, adorn'd, like to their Backs appears.
Like Plumes upon his Crest, like Robes he wears:
As when of old, to his Infernal Bed
The dreadfull King of Night eternal, fled,
And, in his Stygian Chariot, bore away
From Ætna's Fields, ravish'd Proserpina.
But Cato, then a Youth, and the Renown
Of the high Walls of that Circéan Town
Where fam'd Laertes Nephew did command:
Although he saw the Latines make a stand,
All troubled in the Front, undaunted, He
Spurs on his starting Steed, that sought to flee
His Way, affrighted at the Stygian Shade.
With that, he quits his Back, and doth invade
209

On foot, the Chariot, and the flying Moor,
Behinde: when strait his Sword, that trembled o're
His Neck, his Whip, and Reins, together fall,
And, suddenly, an horrid Paleness all
His Limbs, through loss of Blood, doth overspread;
When Cato, with his Sword, lops off his Head,
And bears it, as a Trophy, on his Lance.
But, now, the fierce Dictatour doth advance,
And, through a Globe with Slaughter breaking, where
(A wofull Sight!) the Gen'ral did appear,
Sinking through many Wounds, and loss of Blood,
And poorly begging Quarter; with a Flood
Of Tears, lamenting to behold him so,
Protects him, with his Target, from the Fo:
And, calling to his Son; My valiant Boy
(Said He) now let thy Valour wipe away
This Stain: let us to Hannibal return,
(For his great Kindness, that he did not burn,
And wast our Fields) a due, and just Reward.
The Youth, with these Encouragements he heard,
And's Father's Arts rejoyc'd, the Troops, that round
The Libyan stood, constrain'd to quit their Ground
With's Conqu'ring Sword, and clear'd the Field again;
While Hannibal was forc'd to quit the Plain.
As when a greedy Wolf, with Hunger prest,
The Shepheard stept aside, or taking Rest,
Hath seiz'd a Lamb, and holds it, Trembling, fast
Between his Jaws: if then the Shepheard haste,
Hearing it bleat, to meet him in the Way;
The Wolf, now fearfull for himself, his Prey,
Panting between his Teeth, lets fall again,
And hungry to the Woods retreats amain.
At length the Stygian Darkness, that was spread
O're all the Earth, by a rude Tempest, fled.
210

Their Hands were weary, and they all confess
They did not merit Safety; with Excess
Of sudden Joys their Minds distracted were:
Like such, that by some sudden Ruins are
Oppress'd, when they are freed again, and Night
Retires, then wink, and fear to see the Light.
This done, his Army number'd in the Plain,
To's Camp upon the Hills, with Joy, again
The old Dictatour, makes a safe Retreat:
And then, as rescu'd from the Hand of Fate,
The Youth, loud Shouts raise to the Stars, and all
T'express their Joy with Emulation, call
Fabius their Safety, Fabius their Renown,
Fabius their common Father, and the Crown
Of all their Hopes. Then he, that lately shar'd
His Troops, to thank them with this Speech repair'd.
Most Pious Father, if it lawfull be
That we complain, to Life restor'd by Thee,
Oh why didst Thou permit us to divide
Our Camp, and Forces? Why didst thou abide
So patient, so calm, those Arms to yield
To us, which thou alone art fit to weild?
Sinking beneath that Charge with loss of Blood,
We near the Shades Eternal lately stood.
Hither your Eagles, hither quickly bear
Your rescu'd Ensigns; Here's our Countrey, here
In this one Breast the Citie's Walls abide!
And thou, Oh Hannibal, now, lay aside
Thy Frauds, and known Deceits, the War with Thee
By Fabius alone must manag'd be.
This said, when strait (a Reverend Sight it was)
A thousand Altars rise, of Turfs of Grass
Compos'd, and none or Meat, or Wine essai'd
To touch, before Devoutly they had pray'd,
And on the Sacred Table, to the wise
Dictatour's Honour, paid a Sacrifice.
The End of the Seventh Book.
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