University of Virginia Library

The Argument.

The Consul Paulus, as advis'd, declines
The Fight, forbidden by unhappy Signs.
Rash Varro urgeth for a Day. A Son,
In that sad Night, before the Day begun,
His Father, flying from the Libyan Side,
Unhappy kills; who bids him, as he dy'd,
Forewarn the Romanes to avoid the Fight:
His Son this Warning on his Shield doth write,
And kills himself for Grief. The fatal Field
Is fought; the Romans miserably kill'd:
The Libyans have the Day. While 'fore his Eys
His Men are slain, the Coward Varro flies.

While Italy, thus vext with Prodigies,
The Signs (in vain) of future Ruin sees,
Discover'd by the Gods, as if they might
Prove happy Omens of the following Fight;
The Consul, waking, spends the Night: and, now,
Throws in the Dark his Jav'lins; then, as slow,
Upbraids his Colleague; and, while yet 'twas Night,
Would have the Trumpets sound a Charge, and fight
The Libyans, no less eager to engage.
Urg'd by the adverse Fates, with sudden Rage,
Out from the Camp they sally, and begin
To Skirmish. For the Macæ, that had bin
Disperst, for Forage, through the Neighb'ring Plain,
A winged Showr of Shafts, like sudden Rain,
Pour on the Romanes: and, before the rest,
Mancînus (who to be the first had prest,
To dip in Hostile Blood his Weapon) dy'd:
And with him many gallant Youth beside.
Nor yet, though Paulus, sadly, did declare,
How cross the Auspicies, and Entrails were,
Would Varro from the Battel have abstain'd,
Unless the Lot, by which they did command
The Camp, by Turns, had thwarted his Desire,
And forc'd the hasty Fates a while retire.
But yet, no longer, then a Day, could be
Between a thousand Deaths, and their Decree
Allow'd. Into the Camp the Troops return
Again: while Paulus ceaseth not to mourn,
Seeing the Reins of the next Day's Command
Were to be trusted in a frantick Hand;
And, that those Souls were, then, preserv'd in Vain
From Slaughter. For enrag'd, and mad again,
For that he had the Battel then delai'd,
Dost Thou, thus now, Æmilius (Varro said)
Thy Gratitude, and the Reward repay
Of that thy guilty Head? Or else have they
From Thee deserved such a base Return;
Who snatch'd Thee from the Laws, and threatning Urn?
Command them to surrender to the Fo
Their Arms, and Swords; or, when to fight they go,
Cut all their Right-Hands off. But you, whom I
Have often Weeping seen, commanded by
The Consul to retire, or shun the Fo,
No more expect the Signal, when you go
To fight, or slow Commands: let ev'ry Man
Be his own Leader, and go boldly on
In his own Ways. When first the Sun shall shed
His Morning Rays upon Garganus Head,
These Hands the Ports shall open for you all:
Then charge them quickly, and this Day recall,
Which you have lost. Thus he, with mad Desires,
To Fight, the discontented Camp inspires.
When Paulus, not the same in Mind, or Face:
But, as if, after Fight, he'd seen the Place
Strew'd with his slaughter'd Friends; and, as if there
In View the Miseries ensuing were:
As when all Hope of her Son's Life is past,
In Vain, his yet-warm Body, in her last
Embrace, a Mother huggs, and seems to be
Sensless with Grief. By Rome's dear Walls (said He)
So often shaken! by those Souls, which now
Night with a Stygian Shade surrounds, and know
No Guilt, forbear I pray, to run upon
Your Ruin, till the Wrath of Heav'n be gone,
And Fortune's Fury be consum'd. 'Twill be
Enough, if our New Men shall dare to see
The Fo without a Fear; or if, at all,
They will endure the Name of Hannibal.
Saw'st thou not, when, within the Neighb'ring Plain,
His Voice was heard, how soon the Blood again
From their Pale Faces fled? and how their Arms
Fell down before the Trumpets shrill Alarms?
Fabius, as you suppose, was dull, and slow,
To Fight; yet all those Souldiers, that did go
With those blam'd Ensigns, now in Arms appear:
So do not those, that with Flaminius were.
But Heav'n avert such things! and, if you are
Resolv'd my Counsell to resist, and Pray'r;
Yet hearken to the Gods: for know, of old,
This the Grynæan Prophetess foretold
To all the World, in former Ages; Thee,
And this thy Headlong Rage, presaging, She
Divulg'd: and, as another Prophet, now,
I plainly to thee here thy Fate avow;
Unless to Morrow's Ensigns be by thee
Restrain'd, Thou, with our Blood, wilt ratifie
The Sybil's Words: nor shall these Fields be fam'd
(If thou persist) from Diomed, but nam'd
Fatal, from thee. Thus Paulus, in whose Eys,
Enflam'd with Grief, the Tears began to rise.
And then a wicked Errour stain'd the Night;
For Satricus, made Captive in a Fight
In Libya, to Xantippus was a Slave;
Who him (sor's Valour priz'd) soon after gave
To th'Autololian King. At Sulmo he
An House possess'd, and left two Sons to be
There Nurtur'd by their Mother: one they call
Mancînus; t'other Solymas, to all
Known for his Trojan Name: for his Descent
Was Dardane, and his Ancestour, who went
After Æneas Fortune, built, and Wall'd
A City fair, which Solymon he call'd,
From his own Name, and, 'mong Italians fam'd,
By them, corruptly now, is Sulmo nam'd.
This Satricus, the Autololian King,
Among his Barbarous Troops, did thither bring,
And, on Occasion, us'd him there to teach
Getulians to know the Latine Speech.
But, when he found a Possibility
Pelignian Walls, and's Native Home to see,
To second his Attempt, he takes the Night,
And quits by Stealth the Camp. Yet in his Flight
He took no Arms; being fearfull to betray
Himself by's Shield, and Naked went away.
But, when the Spoils, and Dead within the Field,
He spy'd; Mancînus strip'd: his Arms, and Shield,
He strait puts on, by which his former Fear
Was lightned: but the Body, which he there
Had Naked made, and he, whose Spoils he wore,
Was his own Son, there slain not long before,
By a fierce Macian Fo: Night growing on,
'Bout the first Sleep, behold! his other Son
(Young Solymus) appointed, by his Fate,
Then to relieve the Watch, without the Gate,
From the Ausonian Camp, advanc'd with Speed,
To seek, among the Heaps o'th'scatter'd Dead,
Mancînus Body, and by Stealth Interr
His dearest Brother: but he had not far
Advanc'd, when arm'd from the Sidonian Side,
Coming up to him, he a Man espy'd;
With which surpriz'd, into thy Tomb he flies
(Ætolian Thoas) and there Skulking lies.
But when he saw no Souldiers in the Rear,
And that alone i'th' Dark he wandred there,
Out from the Sepulchre he leaps, and throws
At's Father's Naked Back, as on he goes,
A Jav'lin, not in vain. His Father, who
Thought that some Tyrian Troop did him pursue,
And gave the Wound, about him look'd, to know
The Authour of that unexpected Blow;
But, when, with Speed, the Conquerour advanc'd,
And from the Arms, well-known, a Lustre glanc'd,
And, as the Moon did then Assistance yield,
He plainly saw, it was his Brother's Shield.
Enflam'd with Rage, I'me not thy Son (said He)
Oh Satricus of Sulmo! Nor should be
Mancînus Brother: nor deserve a Name
Among those Nephews, that directly came
From Dardan Solymus; should I now thee
Permit (false Libyan) with Impunity
To 'scape this Hand. Shall I endure thee wear
My Brother's Spoils before my Face? or bear
The Arms of a Pelignian House away,
While I survive, or, guilty, see the Day?
No (my dear Mother) these I'le bear to Thee,
A gratefull Present, and most fit to be
A Comfort to thy Griefs, for thy lost Son;
That thou may'st them for ever fix upon
His Sepulchre: and, as he spake that Word
Aloud, he rush'd upon him with his Sword.
But, Satricus, who now could hardly stand,
And faintly held his Weapon in his Hand,
Hearing his Countrey nam'd, his Wife, and Sons,
And Arms, cold Horrour through his Members runs,
And stupifies his Sense: his dying Mouth,
At length, this Language to the Furious Youth
Breaths forth; O spare thy Hand, I pray thee, spare;
Not that I beg for longer Life; it were
A Sin in me to ask it: but the Stain
Of this my Blood, I wish may not remain
Upon thy Hand. I am that Satricus,
Captive to Carthage, sprung from Solymus,
Now to my Countrey, by the Tyrian brought.
I know, my Son, 'twas not in thee a Fault,
When first thou didst thy Spear against me throw:
I was a Libyan then; but from the Fo
I fled to you, and hasted now to see
My dear Wife's Face, prevented thus by Thee.
This Target, as I came, I took away
From thy dead Brother; but be sure to lay
This with his Arms, excus'd, upon his Tomb:
But, first be carefull, soon as Thou shalt come
Into the Camp, my last Advice to bear
To Gen'ral Paulus, that he have a Care
Still to protract the War, and Fight decline
With Hannibal; whose Auguries Divine
Swell Him with Hopes, that He shall shortly see
An Immense Slaughter. But, let Varro be,
I pray, restrain'd: For he, as Fame doth tell,
Is eager still your Eagles to impell.
'Tis a great Comfort, as my Life now ends,
That I have giv'n this Warning to my Friends.
But thy last Kisses, now, bestow upon
Thy Father lost, and found at once, my Son.

Thus as he spake, his Helmet off he cast,
And, with his trembling Arms, the Neck embrac'd
Of's Son; amaz'd, and strove, with Words, his Shame
To cure, and to excuse the Weapon's Blame,
That gave the Wound. Who knows (said he) my Son,
Or who can testifie what we have done?
Doth not the Night conceal the Errour? Why
Dost tremble so? Thy Breast more close apply
To mine. Why dost thou at such Distance stand?
Ev'n I, thy Father, do absolve thy Hand,
And pray, my Labours ending, it may close
Mine Eys. The Youth, opprest with sudden Woes,
Gave no return of Words to what he said:
But, sighing deeply, labour'd to have staid
His Blood, and (strangely weeping) to have bound,
With his torn Shirt, the deep-inflicted Wound.
At length, among his many Sighs, thus he
Breaks into sad Complaints. Doth Fortune Thee
(Dear Father) to thy Countrey, and to Us,
Thus bring again? Or doth She, cruel, thus
Me to my Father, Him restore to Me?
Happy my Brother was, thrice happy He,
Who thought our Father was destroy'd by Fate:
But I, by Tyrians untouch'd, too late
Now know him by a Wound. It would have been
At least some Comfort, Fortune, to my Sin,
Had it been still left doubtfull: but my Woes
No longer shall be left to the Dispose
Of the unequal Gods. While his Complaints,
Distracted, thus he vents, his Father faints
Through loss of Blood, and into empty Air
His Life resolves: the Youth, with sad Despair,
Then lifting to the Stars his Eys; Thou Moon,
Who art sole Witness of what I have done,
By this polluted Hand; who by thy Light
Did'st guid my fatal Jav'lin, in its Flight,
Into my Father's Body: these mine Eys,
And cursed Sight (said He) while in the Skies
Thou reign'st, no more shall thee contaminate.
With that his Sword his Breast doth penetrate;
Yet he endeavour'd to sustain the Wound,
Till, the Blood largely-flowing, on the Ground,
His Father's last Commands he thus did write
Upon his Target, Varro, Shun The Fight,
Then on his Jav'lin's Point his Shield he hung,
And himself, dying, on his Father flung.

The Gods these Omens, of the following Fight,
To the Ausonians gave; and, as the Night;
Conscious of all this Wickedness, gave way
Her Shades retiring, to the rising Day,
The Carthaginian Captain citeth all
His Troops to Arms; the Romane General
The like performs: and such a Day, as in
No Age before, for Libya doth begin.
You need no Words (said Hannibal) t'excite
Your Courage, or provoke you to the Fight:
But we have come from the Herculean Bounds,
With Conquest to these Iäpygian Grounds.
We stout Sagunthus have destroy'd; to Us
The Alps gave way; and proud Eridanus
(The chief of Rivers in Italian Ground)
Flows in a captive Chanel; Trebia's drown'd
In Humane Blood: Flaminius, who was slain
By Us, (a Burthen to the Tyrrhen Plain)
Lyes buried there; and all the Fields are fill'd
With Romane Bones, and since were never till'd.
But, now, behold a Day, more bright, then all
These Titles, and which to our Wishes shall
Afford more Blood. This Fight's Renown to Me
A true Reward, and Great enough shall be.
All other things your Conquest shall become;
And, without Chance of Lots, whatever Rome
Hath hither, from the rich Iberian Coast,
Brought, as her Spoil; or what She else can boast
In her Ætnæan Triumphs, or what more
Sh'hath basely ravish'd from the Libyan Shore,
Your Swords shall gain; and you shall carry Home,
All, that to your Victorious Hands shall come.
Nothing of their vast Wealth will I, as due
To Me (your General) demand: for You
Hath the Dardanian Spoiler plunder'd all
The conquer'd World so long. Whoe're can call
Himself a Native Tyrian, or can claim,
From his Original, a Sarrane Name,
If him the fair Laurentine Land, which now
Sigæan Swains (your future Slaves) do Plow,
Delight; or, rather, the Buxentian Fields,
Where Corn, an hundred-Fold, the Goddess yield:
I'le give him Choice of Lands, and add to them
These Banks, which Tyber with his conquer'd Stream
Doth largely water. But then whosoe're
(My dear Companions) doth now appear
In Arms, and brings from Byrsa's farthest Land,
As an Ally, his Aids: if He his Hand
Stain'd with Ausonian Blood, shall shew to Me,
He shall a Citizen of Carthage be.
Nor let Garganus, or this Daunian Land
Deceive you; at the very Walls you stand
Of Rome: though far that Citie's losty Site
Be distant from this Place, where we shall fight;
Here shall She fall this Day, and henceforth I
Shall need no more your Valour to employ
In War (my Souldiers) but from hence You shall
Directly march into the Capitol.
This said: their Works, and Rampires down they throw,
And over all Delays of Trenches go;
While he, the Place well view'd, in order'd Ranks,
Draws up his Troops, upon the winding Banks.

The Barb'rous Nasamonian Bands were plac't
In the left Wing, and the Marmarick, vast
Of Body, the fierce Moors, and Macians,
Massilian Troops, and Garamantians,
With them the Adrimachides, that give
Themselves to War, and love by it to live;
Then all those People, that inhabit on
The Banks of Nile, and from the scorching Sun
Shelter their Tawny Bodies: These their Head,
And chief Commander, stout Nealces led.
But the right Wing did valiant Mago guide;
Plac'd where swift Aufidus doth wandring glide,
By winding Banks, with crooked Streams: and there
The Active Troops of rough Pyrene were,
And with confused Murmurs fill'd the Shore:
There shin'd the Warlike Youths, that Targets bore.
Before the rest, Cantabrians appear,
And Gascoins, that no Helmets use to wear,
With Betick Troops, and him, that, fighting, flings
His flying Lead from Balearick Slings.
But the main Battel Hannibal Commands:
Which, with His Father's old Victorious Bands
He strengthens, and Blood-thirsty Celtæ, who
Their Troops oft muster on the Banks of Po.
But, where his Course the River turn'd away,
So that the Files unflank'd, and Open lay,
His Libyan Elephants in Order stood,
Their dusky Backs all charg'd with Tow'rs of Wood;
Which, when they forward march'd, up to the Skies,
Like Battlements, or moving Walls, did rise.
But, the Numidian Horse were left to Scout
On ev'ry Side, and scour the Field throughout:
While he new Force to his incensed Men
Inspireth, and, Insatiable, agen
Exhorting, fires their Thoughts by boasting, He
A present Witness to each Man would be,
And ev'ry Person by his Actions know,
And what Right-Hand a singing Dart did throw.

Now, from their Works, the Legions Varro drew,
From whence the Rise of their Destruction grew;
While joyfull Charon busily made Room,
In his pale River, for the Souls to come.
The Van, affrighted at the Signs of Blood
Upon the hanging Shield, like Statues, stood:
Fix'd at the Omen. Near to that, a Face
Of Dread, two Bodies dead in their Embrace.
The fatal Wound within his Father's Breast,
With his Right-Hand, the Son, to hide it, prest.
At this they wept, and then (Alass!) too late
Lament Mancînus in his Brother's Fate.
Then the sad Augury, and Looks alike,
In the dead Bodies, a fresh Sorrow strike;
At length, their Errour's Guilt, and Fates to be
Lamented, and the Arms, that bid them flee
The Battel, to their General they show.
His Thoughts now all a fire; To Paulus go
With these (said He) for him (whose Fears now stand
In his unmanly Breast) that guilty Hand
May move, which, stain'd with cruel Slaughter, when
The Furies Punishment demanded, then
Perhaps, with's Father's Blood this Charm did write.
This said, with Threats, his Orders for the Fight
Through all the Army run, with Speed: and where
Nealces led his Barb'rous Nations, there
Himself with Marsians, Samnites, and with those
The Iapygians sent, He doth oppose.
But, in the Middle of the Field, where he
Perceiv'd the Libyan General to be
Against him, he Servilius commands,
To lead the Umbrian, and Picenian Bands.
Paulus the right Wing led, and beside these,
T'attend the Plots of nimble Nomades,
Scipio, a party took, with Charge, where e're
He spy'd their Troops within the Plains appear,
He should Advance, and Fight. Both Armies now
Drew near, and by the Running to, and fro,
The confus'd Neighing of the fiery Steeds,
And clashing Arms, a sudden Murmur spreads
It self through all the troubled Troops: as when
Loud Conflicts 'twixt the Winds, and Seas, begin
Their inward Rage; and Storms, that lave the Skies,
The Billows strait let loose: and, as they rise,
Their threatning Noise, through all the trembling Rocks,
From their Foundations shaken by the Shocks,
Expire; and Surges, from the Bottom thrown,
With angry Foam, the lab'ring Ocean Crown.

Nor was this cruel Storm of Fate alone
The Labour of the Earth, Dissension
Crept into Heav'n, and Gods to War incites.
Here Father Mars, and here Apollo fights,
And Neptune there: vext Cytherea here,
And Vesta, and Alcides angry, there,
For lost Sagunthus. Old Cybele too,
And Gods of Mortals made: Quirinus, who
First rais'd the Romane State; with Faunus: then
Pollux, that lately, with his Brother-Twin,
Had shifted his Alternate Life: but there,
Girt with a Sword, Saturnia doth appear;
And Pallas, 'mong the Libyan Waters born:
And Hammon too, whose Temples with an Horn
Are Circumflex'd, and many lesser Gods
Beside; who coming, from their bless'd Abodes,
To see this Fight, with their Approaches shook
The Earth; and all their sev'ral Stations took.
Some on the Neighb'ring Hills, while others shrow'd
Themselves, from Mortal Eys, within a Cloud.
The Heav'ns were empty left, while all to Wars
Descend: and strait to the forsaken Stars
As great a Clamour rose, as when, within
Phlegræan Plains, the Giants did begin
The Fight with Hercules; or Jove, for all
His Thunder-bolts, did on the Cyclops call,
When the bold Earth-born Army did invade
His Throne, and Mountains upon Mountains lai'd.
The Charge so fierce: no Dart, or Spear before
The rest was thrown; but an impetuous Showr
Of Shafts together fell, with equal Rage:
And, as they, thirsting after Blood, engage,
The Storm a Multitude of both destroy'd.
But, where the Sword more closely was imploy'd,
The greater Number dy'd: on whom the rest
Stood to maintain the Fight; and, as they prest
To strike a Fo, would spurn them as they groan.
The Sea as soon, with raging Billows thrown
'Gainst Calpe, might remove it from its Seat;
As all the Libyan Rage to a Retreat
Could force the Romanes: or the Romanes make
The Libyan Bands their Station to forsake.
So close they fight, no Space was left at all
For Blows to miss; or, when they dy'd, to fall:
Helmets 'gainst Helmets clash, and ev'ry Stroke
Excuss'd the hidden Flames. Targets are broke
'Gainst Targets, Swords by Swords are hack'd, and Feet
On Feet do tread; so furiously they meet:
Breasts against Breasts are bruis'd, and where they stood
Earth could not be discern'd, o'reflown with Blood:
And the thick Clouds of Arrows, as they fly,
Take from their Eys the Day, and hide the Sky.
Those of the second Rank, as if they fought
I'th' Front, with their long Pikes, and Lances, sought
To wound the Fo: and those, that farthest stood,
With missile Weapons labour'd to make good
The Fight, with those were foremost: all the rest,
With Clamour, their Desire to Fight exprest,
And, with their horrid Shouts, the Enemy
Provoke. And now all sorts of Weapons fly:
Some hard'ned Stakes, Pines burning others fling,
And weighty Piles. These Fatal Pellets sling;
Those Darts: and, which would shake the strongest Wall,
Huge Stones from the Phalarick Engines fall:
And through the Clouds the singing Arrows fly.
How can I hope (ye Goddesses whom I
Religiously adore) this Day to show
To future Times? Can you such Pow'r allow
(Ye Learned Virgins) to my Mortal Song?
And trust the Cannæ to a single Tongue?
If you affect our Fame, nor shall decline
To give Assistance to our high Design;
Hither from your Parnassus, hither all
Your Sacred Lays, and Father Phœbus call.
But maist thou (Noble Romane) still appear
As Constant, and thy future Triumphs bear
With as great Courage, as Adversity
Thou then didst meet! Such maist Thou ever be!
Nor tempt the Gods to try, if those, that are
Deriv'd from Troy, can bear so great a War;
And thou (O Rome) no more with Tears deplore
Thy dubious Fate; but rather, now, adore
Those Wounds, that shall Eternal Praise to Thee
Produce: for thou shalt never Greater be;
But sink in thy Success, and by the Name
Of former Miseries defend Thy Fame.

Now Fortune, shifting Sides, between them went,
Deluding, with sad Doubts of the Event,
The Rage of Both; and furious Mars, so long
As Hope, between, in equal Ballance hung,
Rag'd in their Arms alike. So have I seen
The standing Corn, while yet the Stems were green,
Mov'd by a gentle Wind, wave to, and fro,
The Weighty Ears, which, as they Nodding go
To this Side, then to that, alternately
The sev'ral Motions of the Wind obey.

At length Nealces, with confused Shouts,
Brings on his Barb'rous Troops; and, Charging, routs
The adverse Wing: the Ranks disorder'd, through
The Intervals, the fierce victorious Fo
Breaks on the trembling Files; and strait a Flood,
(That like a Torrent rush'd) of reeking Blood
Runs on the Plain. None, falling, are by Spears
Thrust on their Faces: for the Romane fears
Wounds on the Back, and on his Breast receives
His cruel Death, and Life with Honour leavs.
Among the first, affecting still to be
I'th' hottest of the Fight, and equally
To meet all Dangers, stood brave Scævola;
Who, scorning to survive so sad a Day,
Sought worthy his great Ancestour to fall,
And dy beneath that Name: perceiving all
Was lost, Our Life, how short soe're it be,
Now in despight of Fate, let Us (said he)
Extend. For Valour is an empty Name;
Unless, in Death's Approach, a lasting Fame
By suff'ring bravely, or by Wounds, we gain
Surviving Honour. Speaking thus, amain
Into the Midst, where the fierce Libyan's Hand
Cut out his Way, through those, that did withstand,
He, like a Tempest, falls; and, there he slew
Tall Calathis, and with his Sword quite through
His Body pierc'd, as boasting, he put on
The Arms of one there slain: strait down upon
The Ground he tumbles, biting with his Teeth
The Hostile Arms; the Tortures of his Death
By that suppressing, as he groveling lay.
Neither could Gabar, or stout Sicha stay,
With their joint Valour, his Impetuous Rage.
For valiant Gabar, as he did engage,
Lost his Right Hand, but Sicha, mad with Grief,
And coming rashly on to his Relief,
Stumbling by Chance upon his Sword, doth wound
His Naked Foot, by which upon the Ground
He falls, and by the Hand of's dying Friend
Lies prostrate. This his Fury, in the end,
Nealces fatal Rage upon him brought,
Who, by so great a Name incited, sought
The Honour of his Fall, and strait a Stone,
Torn from the Neigh'bring Rock, and tumbled down
By the swift Torrent, from the Mountain, took,
And threw it at his Face: his Jaws were broke
Asunder with the Weight; his Face no more
Its Form retains: mix'd with thick Clots of Gore,
His Brains flow through his Nose, and both his Eys
Dash'd from his mangled Front, he falls, and dyes.
Then Marius fell, endeav'ring to relieve
Casper his Friend, and fearfull to survive
His Death: Both Youths, in Age alike, both poor
Alike, and both Sacred Præneste bore:
They joyn'd their Labours, and both jointly till'd
Their Neighb'ring Fields, they both refus'd, and will'd
Still the same things; their Minds alike, through all
Their Life. A Wealthy Concord in a Small
Estate. They fell together, and expir'd
In Fight together, as they both desir'd.
Their Arms, the Trophy of Simethus were.
But such a Benefit of Fortune there
The Libyan could not long enjoy. For now
The valiant Scipio with a threatning Brow
Came on (sore griev'd to see his Cohorts fly)
And Varro (Cause of all their Misery)
With Curio yellow hair'd, and Brutus, from
The first great Consul sprung, that rescued Rome;
These by their Valour, had the Field regain'd,
Had not the Libyan General restrain'd
With a fierce Charge, his Troops, about to fly.
Who when far off, He Varro did espy
Engag'd, and near him moving to, and fro,
The Lictour, in his Scarlet Coat, I know
That Pomp, I know the Ensigns of your State
(Said He) such your Flaminius was of late;
Thus speaking, by the Thunder of his Shield,
His Fury he Proclaims, through all the Field.
Oh wretched Varro! Thou might'st there have dy'd
With Paulus, had not angry Heav'n deny'd
That thou by Hannibal, should'st there be slain.
How often to the Gods mightst thou complain,
That thou did'st scape the Libyan Sword? For there
Bringing thy Safety, when thou did'st dispair
Of Life, upon Himself brave Scipio all
The Danger turn'd: nor was fierce Hannibal
Unwilling (though by that Diversion, He
The Honour of Opimous Victory
Had lost) Thee for a greater Fo to change,
And by that offer'd Combat, to Revenge
On Him, the Rescue of his Father, near
Ticinus. Now the Champions both appear
From sev'ral Quarters of the World, then whom
Earth never yet beheld two Greater come
Within the Lists; in Strength, and Courage held
Both equal; but the Romane Prince excell'd
In Piety, and Faith. Then from the Cloud
(Wherein from Mortal Eys, the Gods did shroud
Themselves) leap'd forth (to view the Fight more near)
For Scipio, Mars, and Pallas, full of Fear,
For Hannibal. The Champions both abide
Undaunted, but their Entrance terrifi'd
The Armies. Round about thick gloomy Fires,
Where Pallas moves, her Gorgon's Mouth expires,
And dreadfull Serpents hiss upon her Shield:
Her Eys, like two great Comets, through the Field
Disperse a Bloody Light, and to the Skies,
From her large Crest, the waving Flames arise.

But Mars, the Air disturbing with his Spear,
And cov'ring with his Shield the Plain, doth wear
His Mail; which, by the Lab'ring Cyclops made,
Ætnean Flames through all the Field displai'd:
And, with his radiant Cask, doth, rising, strike
The Stars. The Champions, on the Fight, alike
Intent, though traversing with watchfull Eys
Their Ground, perceiv'd the Armed Deities
Approach; and, glad that they Spectatours were,
Increas'd the Fury of their Minds. And here
A Jav'lin Pallas from the Libyan's Side
Lets fly, with a strong Force: which, soon espy'd
By Mars, instructed to afford his Aid,
By that Example of the furious Maid;
Strait his Ætnean Sword into the Hands
O'th' Youth, he puts, and greater things Commands.
At this the Maid incens'd, her Visage burn'd
In Flames of Rage, and She so strangely turn'd
Her glaring Eys, that in her Dreadfull Look
She Gorgon overcame: as then, She shook
Her Ægis, all her Snakes their Bodies rear'd,
And, at her first Assault, ev'n Mars appear'd
A little to give Ground: the Goddess still
Pursu'd, and Part of the adjoyning Hill,
Torn up, with all the Stones, that on it grew,
'Gainst Mars, with all her Force, and Fury, threw.
The Horrour of its Fall, diffused o're
The Plain, frights Sasson with a trembling Shore.

But, when the King of Gods this Fight's Intent
Perceiv'd, involv'd in Clouds, He Iris sent,
With Speed, their too great Fury to allay,
And thus instructs her. Goddess, haste away
To the Oenotrian Land, and there her Rage
Command thy Sister Pallas to asswage;
Bid her not hope to change the fix'd Decree
Of Fate: and likewise tell Her, that, if She
Desist not (for the Poison, and the Fire
Of Her fierce Minde I know) and check her Ire,
Against the Romane, She shall understand,
How much the dreadfull Thunder of my Hand
Excells her Ægis. When Tritonia knew
This, a long time Uncertain what to do,
And doubtfull in her Thoughts, if She should yield!
T'Her Father's Arms: Well, We will quit the Field
(Said She) but, when W' are thus expuls'd, will Jove
Hinderus to behold from Heav'n above
Garganus Fields reeking with Blood. This said:
Under an hollow Cloud, the furious Maid
To other Places of the Battel took
The Libyan General, and Earth forsook.

But Mars, the Goddess gone, recalls again
Their Courage, and, dispers'd through all the Plain,
(Encompass'd with a Cloud, as black as Night)
With his own Hand, strait recollects the Fight.
The Romanes now their Ensigns turn, and, Fear
Quite lai'd aside, the Slaughter ev'ry where
Renew. Then Æolus, who o're the Winds
Is King, and them within a Prison binds,
Who Boreas, Eurus, Corus, Notus, and
The Rest, ev'n Heav'n-disturbing, doth Command,
At Juno's Suit, whose Promises were great,
Furious Vulturnus (whose Imperial Seat
Is in th'Æolian Plains) into the Fight
Let's loose: (for then the Goddess took Delight
By him to vindicate her cruel Ire)
He having div'd in Ætna deep, and Fire
Conceiv'd, strait raising up his flaming Head
Into the Air, with horrid Roaring fled
From thence, and through the Daunian Kingdoms blows
Clouds of congested Dust, and, where He goes,
The dark'ned Air from all, (as if the Day
Were spent) their Sight, Hands, Voices took away.
Then 'gainst th'Italians Faces Globes of Sand
(Sad to relate) he drives; and his Command
To fight against them doth with Rage pursue;
And, with that Weight of Ruin, overthrew
The Souldiers, Arms, and Trumpets, and reverts
Upon the Rutuli their flying Darts,
And frustrates, with his adverse Blasts, their Blows:
But all the Weapons, that the Libyan throws,
He seconds; and their Jav'lins, and their Spears,
As with the Loop assisting, forward bears.
The Souldiers, now, chok'd with thick Dust, and Breath
Stopp'd 'twixt their Jaws, that poor, ignoble Death
Lament; while, hiding in the troubled Air
His yellow Head, and, strewing all his Hair
With Sand, Vulturnus, with his roaring Wings,
Sometimes flies at their Backs, and sometimes flings
Himself against their Faces, in a Storm,
That whistling loud whole Cohorts doth disarm:
Some, that press'd on, and ready, with a Blow,
To fix i'th' Throat of the now-yielding Fo,
Their Swords he, in the very Stroak, withstands,
And, entring to a Wound, pulls back their Hands.
Nor was't enough, that thus the Romane Arms,
And Men, he spoil'd; but with loud bellowing Storms,
'Gainst Mars himself, his Fury he exprest
And twice with Whirl-wind shook his lofty Crest.

While thus Æolian Fury did engage
The Latine Troops, and Mars provok'd to Rage:
Pallas, near whom Saturnia stood, to Jove
Thus speaks. Behold! What Billows Mars doth move
Against the Libyans! With what Slaughters he
Himself doth glut! Is't not your Will (said She)
I pray, that Iris now to Earth descend?
Though I, when I was there, did not intend
The Teucri to destroy (for let your Rome
Reign with my Pledg, and my Palladium
There still remain) yet was I loath the Light
Of my dear Libya, Hannibal, should quite
Extinguish'd be, or that, in Prime of all
His Years, so Great Beginnings now should full:
Here Juno took the Word, and, from a Sence
Of her long Labours, Yes (said She) that hence
The World may know, how great Jove's Empire is,
How much his Pow'r, how much his Wife by this
All other Gods excells! Now let thy Firé
The Tow'rs of Carthage, (nothing We desire)
Destroy: the Tyrian Army sinking down,
Through gaping Earth, in Stygian Waters drown;
Or else o'rewhelm them in the Neighb'ring Main.
To whom Jove mildly thus replies. In vain
You strive with Fate, and feeble Hopes prolong,
That Youth (Oh Daughter!) against whom so strong,
So furious thou didst fight, shall overcome
The Africans, and shall from that assume
That Nation's Name, and shall transport withall
The Libyan Lawrel to the Capitol.
And He, on whom such Courage (Wife) by thee
Such Honour is bestow'd (so Fates decree)
Shall turn his Arms from the Laurentine Land,
Nor do the Limits of his Mischief stand
Far off; the Day, and Hour approach, with Haste,
Wherein Hee'l wish, that he no Alps had past.
This said, He Iris sends away with Speed
To charge the God of War, he should Recede,
Aud quit the Fight. He not at all contends
With those Commands, but, murmuring, ascends
Into the Clouds, though Trumpets in the Fight,
Wounds, Blood, and Arms, and Clamours him delight.

The Gods no more contending, and the Plain,
Now clear'd from Mars, the Libyan again,
From the Remotest Part, where he to shun
Celestial Arms, retir'd, came furious on;
And, with loud Shouts, along his Foot, and Horse,
His Towred Elephants, and all the Force
Of's batt'ring Engines drew, and as he spy'd
A Valiant Youth, that with his Sword destroy'd
His lighter Troops, his Anger, sparkling in
His Bloody Cheeks, What God (said He) agen,
Or what dire Furies Thee, Minutius, thus
Drive, on thy Fo? That thou, once more to Us,
Dar'st trust thy self? Where now is Fabius, made
Thy Father by Our Arms, to give thee Aid?
Wretch! 'tis sufficient once to scape from Me;
With this proud Language, He a Lance lets flee,
That swift, as from an Engine thrown, his Breast
Peirc'd through, and with the Stroak, his Speed supprest.
Nor is't enough the Sword doth Rage: they send
Fierce Beasts, and the Italian Youth contend
With Monsters. For, well mounted, Lucas Rid
Up to the Moor, that with his Spear did guide
The Elephants, commanding him t'excite,
With greater Speed, the Heard into the Fight.
The warlike Beasts, then driv'n on, and goar'd
With frequent Wounds, made Haste, and strangely roar'd:
With Flames, and Men, and Darts, the lofty Tow'rs
On their pale backs were arm'd, whence furious showrs
Of Stones fell on the Troops, and where they move
Thick Storms of Shafts (as from the Clouds above)
The Libyans from their flying Castles throw;
While a long Wall of Teeth (as white as Snow)
Runs through the Ranks, and, with their Points declin'd,
From the bow'd Top, the Spears of Iv'ry shin'd.
Here, among others, full of Fear, a Youth,
Call'd Ufens, through his Armour, by the Tooth
Of one of them was struck, and born through all
The troubled Ranks; while he in Vain doth call
For Help, the Point, where, quilted thick, was ty'd
His Breast-Plate, lightly pierc'd by his Left-Side,
And, his unwounded Body lifting high,
Clash'd 'gainst his Shield. His Magnanimity,
The sudden Danger not at all dismaies:
But, turning that Mis-fortune to his Praise,
Now, near the Forehead of the furious Beast,
Through both his Eys his Sword he quickly prest.
When strait enraged by the fatal Wound,
Rising upright, she tumbles to the Ground,
The Tow'r drawn backward by its Weight: and then
The Elephant depriv'd of Sight, the Men
And Arms (a Spectacle of Terrour) all
Are crush'd together in her sudden fall.

The yet-prevailing Romane to withstand
The Fury of these Monsters, gives Command,
That burning Torches wheresoe're they go,
Should be oppos'd, and Sulph'rous Flames to throw
Into their Tow'rs. This, with all Speed, obey'd,
The Elephants they suddenly invade:
Whose smoaking Backs, with Flames collected shin'd,
That, driv'n on by the Tempestuous Winde,
Through their high Bulwarks Fire, devouring, spred:
As when on Rhodope, or Pindus Head,
A Shepheard scatters Fire; and through the Groves,
And Woods, like an hot Plague, it raging moves:
The leavy Rocks are fir'd; and all the Hills,
Leaping now here, now there, bright Vulcan fills.
But, when the burning Sulphur once begun
To parch their Skins, th'unruly Monsters run,
Like mad, and drive the Cohorts from their Stand:
Neither durst Any undertake, at Hand,
To fight them; but their Darts, and Jav'lins throw
At Distance: burning, they impatient grow,
And, through the Heat of their vast Bodies, here,
And there, the scatter'd Flames encreasing bear;
Till by the smooth adjoining Stream, at last,
Deceiv'd, themselves into 't, they Headlong cast,
And with them all their Flames, that still appear
'Bove the tall Banks, till both together, there,
In the deep Chanel of the Flood expire.

But, where the Fight continued still, nor Fire
Had vex'd the Elephants, from fatal Hands
Now Darts, now Stones, on the Rheteian Bands,
And winged Lead, at Distance fall, like Hail.
As when an Army doth a Fortress scale
Through steep Ascents, or storms a fenced Tow'r.
Worthy himself, and a more happy Hour,
Here Mutius rais'd his Hand, and nearer goes,
(In his Attempt unhappy) to oppose
Their Fury with his Sword; but, with a Breath
Expiring Heat, and Murmurs threatning Death,
A furious Monster caught him from the Ground,
And in her winding Trunk his Body bound;
Which toss'd, aloft, into the Air, and lash'd
Oft 'gainst the Earth, was all to Pieces dash'd.

Amidst these Slaughters, soon, as Paulus spy'd
Varro in Arms, upbraiding him, he cry'd;
Now let us meet with Hannibal, whom Thou
Plac'd fore thy Chariot, bound in Chains, didst vow
To give the City, Oh unhappy Rome!
And People, fatal in thy Favour! whom
From the foul Guilt of so great Ills no Time
Can e're absolve, or purge Thee from this Crime.
Which shouldst thou, rather, wish had ne're been born
Varro, or Hannibal? Thus, with sad Scorn,
While Paulus spoke, the Libyan furiously
Advancing, at the Backs of them, that fly
(Ev'n in their Gen'ral's View) all Shafts provokes.
The Consul's Helmet, by their furious Stroaks
Bruis'd, and his Arms all shatter'd, Paulus throws
Himself, more fierce at this, among his Foes.
But Varro, having lost his Courage quite,
(While Paulus to another Place the Fight
Pursu'd) strait wheels about, and, with his Hand
Turning his Horse, said; Thou dost justly stand
Corrected, Rome, that did'st to Varro give
Command in War while Fabius is alive.
But now, what civil Discord in my Minde,
What sad Dissension of my Fate, I finde?
What secret Fraud of Destinies? I all
These Torments will determine in my Fall.
But, Oh! some God my Sword withholds, and Me
Reserves (Alass!) for greater Misery!
Shall I live then? and to the Tribes agen
The Fasces, stain'd with Blood of Countrey-Men,
And broken thus return? And, as I go,
My Face to other angry Cities show?
Or, (then which Nought more Cruel could for Me
By Hannibal be wish'd) fly hence, and Thee,
Oh Rome! behold? More his distracted Fear
Had utter'd; but the Enemy drew Near,
And Charging him more Close with Darts, his Steed
Snatch'd the loose Reins, and fled the Field with Speed.