University of Virginia Library

The Argument.

Scipio (his Father, and his Uncle, slain)
Made Consul, undertakes the War of Spain;
Though but five Lustra old. The vain Delights
Of Youth, to which fond Pleasure him invites,
He flyes, and Virtue follows. Then by Sea
To Spain he hasts: and, in one happy Day,
An Omen to his future Conquests makes
New Carthage, which he, sudden, storms, and takes.
His Chastity: that to her Princely Spouse
A Captiv'd Beauteous Maid, untouch'd, allows.
The Macedonian King incursions makes
Upon the Græcian Coasts. Old Fabius takes
Tarentum. The Numidian Troops surprize
Marcellus by an Ambush, where he dies.
His Obsequies by Hannibal perform'd.
The Libyan Camp, in Spain, by Scipio storm'd
Young Hasdrubal over Pyrene flies:
Perswades the Gauls with him, in Arms, to rise,
And Italy invades, where he again
Is by the Romans overthrown, and slain
By Nero, who his Head upon a Spear,
In Triumph, to the Romane Camp doth bear.

But a new Care Rome's Senate now perplext
(The Nations trembling at their Loss) who next
Should Rule, and undertake the War of Spain.
By a proud Fo both Scipioes were slain
(Two Warlike, Valiant Brothers) hence a Fear,
Lest the Tartessiack People should adhere
To Tyrian Laws, and dread the War, at Hand.
The State thus shaken, sad the Senate stand:
Looking about for Remedies, and pray
Th'Immortal Gods to give them One, that may,
With Courage, in the shatter'd Camp succeed,
As General. The Noble Youth, indeed,
Eager his Father's, and his Uncle's Shade
To vindicate, sad Troops of Friends disswade,
And, adding by their Sorrows to their Fears,
Sadly recount the Number of his Years:
Should he into that Fatal Country go,
Amidst the Ashes of his Friends; that Fo
He there must Fight, who had the Counsels foil'd,
And Arms of two great Generals, and boil'd
With Pride of his Success. Nor was it for
His tender Arms to Manage such a War;
Or that Command, at such Unskilful Years,
To undertake. The Youth these Cares, and Fears,
(Alone, retiring to the farthest Part
Of all his House) revolved in his Heart,
Under a Laurel Shade. When suddenly,
Here Virtue, Pleasure there, (her Enemy)
Descending through the Air, on either hand,
Exceeding Humane Stature, by him stand.
The One breath'd Persian Odours from her Head;
Her Amber-Hair upon her Shoulders spread;
Shining with Yellow Gold, a Tyrian Vest
She wore; the Beauty of her Front exprest
The Bodkin's Art; and from her Wanton Ey
The frequent Flames, with dubious Motion, fly:
A diff'rent Habit did the Other wear;
Her Forehead rough, and never chang'd by Hair
Compos'd; a steddy Look; her Gesture nigh
To Man's, and such her Face; with Modesty
Chearful; upon her lofty Shoulders shin'd
A Snow-white Robe. Then Pleasure first (inclin'd
To promise Much) thus seizeth him. What Rage,
What Fury's this (brave Youth) thy Flow'r of Age
Thus to Consume in Fighting? Art thou so
Unmindful of dire Cannæ, and the Po?
Or Thrasimen, then Styx more grievous far?
To what end do you Thus the Fates, by War,
Provoke? Th'Atlantick Kingdoms you prepare
To try, and Tyrian Houses. But forbear
(Let me advise) to strive with Dangers so,
Or thy Self rashly, as before, to throw
Into those Storms of Arms; unless you shun
Those Rites, sad Virtue, here, will bid you run
Into the midst of Armies, and through Fire.
'Tis She, that (Prodigal) thy noble Sire,
Thy Uncle (Paulus) and the Decii, down
Into the Lakes of Erebus hath thrown;
While Titles to their Ashes She proclaims,
And gilds their Tombs with Memorable Names.
Yet are their Souls Insensible what She
Performs. But, Youth, if Thou wilt go with Me,
In a smooth Path thy Days (allow'd by Fate)
Shall pass. No Trumpet's Sound shall violate
Thy troubled Sleeps: nor Northern Frosts, nor Heat
Of burning Cancer shalt thou Feel. Nor eat
On Tables, oft compos'd of bloody Grass.
Dire Thirst, Dust, swallow'd under Casks, shall pass
By Thee, and Labours, undergone with Fear.
But bright thy Days, and all thy Minutes clear
Shall run. Thou may'st grow Old with dainty Fare.
What mighty things by God provided are,
For Man's more chearful Use? what Joys hath He,
With a full Hand, bestow'd? and Him to be
Th'Example of a Quiet Life we finde,
Living at Ease, with an untroubled Minde.
I'me She, that Venus, near to Simois Stream,
Joyn'd to Anchîses, whence the Authour came
Of your Great Race. Ev'n I am She, for whom
Jove sometimes hath been willing to become
A Bird, sometimes a Bull; and this Advice
Observe. Life swift from Mortals runs; nor twice
Can any Man be born: away Time flys;
And Hell's swift Torrent, swallowing all, denies,
That You, if any thing hath pleas'd you here,
It to the Shades below, from hence, shall bear.
And who is He, that grieves not, at the last
(Too late alass!) that all my Hours are past?

When She was silent, and an End had made
Of Speaking. In what Darkness (Virtue said)
What Cheats of Life, this Youth, in's prime of Age,
Dost thou endeavour (flatt'ring) to Engage?
Unto whom Reason, by the will of Heav'n,
And a great Mind's celestial Seeds are giv'n.
As much as Gods above do Men exceed,
So They all other Creatures. For, indeed,
Such Nature to the Earth, as lesser Gods,
Hath giv'n: and hath Condemn'd to Hell's Abodes,
By fix'd Decree, degen'rate Souls. But All,
That keep their Heav'nly Seed's Original
Entire, shall enter Heav'n. What should I tell
Of great Alcides, who did all debel?
Or Bacchus; whose Triumphal Chariot, through
The Cities, fierce Caucasean Tigers drew;
After the Seres, and the Indians He
Had Conquer'd, and brought Home, with Victory,
His Ensigns from the East? What should I say
Of those fam'd Twins, to whom the Sea-men pray
In Danger? or of your Quirînus? See
How God to Heav'n hath rais'd Man's Face, which he
Erect hath made! While Birds, and Beasts, with all
Of baser Kinde, upon their Bellies fall.
Thrice Happy and (if they the Gifts Embrace
O'th' Gods) to Honour born is Humane Race.
Do but consider this; (I'le not repeat
Too many things) by Valour, now, how Great
Is Rome become? once, much Inferiour to
Threatning Fidenæ, and Content to grow
In a poor Sanctuary. Then behold,
What wealthy Cities Luxury, of Old,
Hath overthrown! For not so much the Ire
Of all the Gods, nor Swords, nor Foes conspire,
To Ruin; as when Pleasure seizeth on
The Minde alone. Thy sure Companion
Is Drunkenness, with Riot: and on Thee
Still, with black Wings, waits Infamy. With Me
Is Honour, Praise, and, with a chearful Ey,
Glory, with fair Renown, and Victory,
Unstain'd, as are her Snow-white Wings. His Head
With Lawrel compass'd, Me doth Triumph lead
Up to the very Stars. My House is Chast,
And on a lofty Hill my Dwelling's plac't.
The Way, that up the stony Cliff doth go,
At first is rough (I'm not Accustom'd to
Deceive) and they must Labour, that intend
To enter there. Nor doth that Wealth ascend
With them, which faithless Chance hath giv'n, and can
Force back again. Strait the whole Race of Man,
(Standing above) beneath Thee, thou shalt see,
And all things contrary to that, which She
Doth, flatt'ring, promise, must be undergone.
You sleepless Nights, under the Stars, (upon
The hard Ground lying) must Endure. You must
Hunger, and Cold subdue: so strictly Just,
That, whatsoever things you take in Hand,
Think that the Gods as Witnesses shall stand
Of all your Deeds. Then, when your Country's, or
The Dangers of the State require, for War
Be you first ready, Hostile Ramparts scale
The first: let neither Gold, nor Swords prevail
Upon your Minde. Robes stain'd with Tyrian Dye,
And sweet Perfumes (in Men unhansome) fly;
I'le bring to pass, that He, who now the Land
Infests with cruel War, shall by thy Hand
Be vanquish'd, and, the Libyans quite Destroy'd,
Thy Lawrel in Jove's Bosom shall be lay'd.

This sung by Virtue, from her Sacred Breast:
The Youth, whose Looks approv'd what She exprest,
With these Examples joy'd, She turns: but yet
Pleasure holds not her Tongue, but, in a Heat,
Exclaims. I weigh You not at all, 'twill come,
My Time (I'me sure) will come, when easy Rome,
With all her Might, my Empire will obey,
And unto Me alone will Honour pay.
Thus having said, shaking her wanton Head,
Into dark Clouds, from them, away she fled.

But the Youth, full of Precepts, and inflam'd
With Love of Virtue, so appearing, aim'd
At Mighty things, within his Heart: and then
Ascends the Rostra, and, while other Men
So hot a Service shun'd, desires to bear
The heavy Charge of that ambiguous War.
The Minds of all intent upon him were:
Some thinke his Father's Eys, some thinke they there
Behold again his Uncle's furious Look.
But yet (though, with deep Silence, Terrour strook
Their Hearts) sad with great Dangers: with their Fears
That War's great Weight they ponder; then his Years
Their anxious Favour numbers. But, while they
These things, with their confused Murmurs, weigh;
From a cross Quarter of the Heav'n, behold!
A Serpent, shining Bright with Spots of Gold,
Seems 'mong the Clouds to pass, and, through the Air
Rays from the flaming Tract diffusing, where
The Clime to Heav'n-supporting Atlas tends,
The Pole resounding with the Noise, descends.
Jove to the Augury adding twice, or thrice,
A shining Bolt, the scatter'd Thunder flies
Through all the shaken World. Then they command,
That, instantly, he take his Arms in hand;
And, humbly prostrate on their Knees, full low
Salute the Omen, and now bid him go
Whither (as it appear'd) the Gods did lead,
And the Path, shew'd him by his Father, tread.

And, now, with Emulation, such as are
Joyn'd in Affairs, and Ministers of War,
Together flock, and Earnest are to share
The hardest Labours: the same Arms to bear
With him, is Honour held. Then strait to Sea
Goes a new Fleet: on him Ausonia
Attends, and is transported into Spain.
As when dire Wars on the Cœrulean Plain
Fierce Corus makes, with hollow Floods, he heaves
The lofty Isthmos up, and with rude Waves
Forcing, at length, through groaning Rocks, his Way,
Mingleth th'Iönian with Ægêan Sea.

Stately, in Arms, shines Scipio, and, within
The foremost Ship, to Neptune doth begin.

Now th'seventh Day, by bright Hyperion's Flame,
Arose, when sensibly they nearer came
To the Town's Tow'rs; whose Tops encreas'd, as they
Approach'd, and Lælius, at his Time, by Sea
Arriving (as before the General
Appointed had) his Navy to the Wall
Draws up, and with his num'rous Ships, behinde,
The Town invests. Carthage, by Nature's kinde
Assistance, hath high Walls, which by the Sea
Encompass'd are, and, tow'rds the rising Day,
A little Isle, its narrow Mouth doth close.
But, where it looks to Phœbus fall, it throws
Up standing Pools, into a muddy Plain,
Which coming Tides encrease, and Ebbs again
Abate. But, where it Fronts the Northern Bear,
Standing upon a lofty Hill, it there,
Steep, to the Neighb'ring Ocean descends,
And with Eternal Floods her Wall defends.
But the bold Soldiers, as if, marching in
A Plain, they Conqu'ring Ensigns brought, begin
To climb the Hill. Arris Commanded there
In Chief, and, had against them, through a Fear
Of some Distress, himself with Aids supply'd,
And all the Hill, and Castle fortifi'd.
A Fo the nature of the Place doth prove,
And with small Force, of those that fought above,
Th'Assailants tott'ring, through the places High,
And Steep, are tumbled down, and maimed Dy.

But, when the turning Tide retir'd again,
And, with a rapid Fall into the Main,
The Billows fled; where tall Ships, lately, Plough'd
The Waves, safe Passage Nereus there allow'd
A Foot. And this Way noble Scipio,
Consulting with his Thoughts, resolv'd to go,
Draws through the Sea his Men, and suddenly
Up to the Walls doth through the Waters fly.
And, when with Speed, behinde, they hasten on,
Where Arris, trusting to the Sea, the Town
Had left without a Guard; strait (sad to tell)
His Neck in Chains, the Libyan Prostrate fell,
And bade the People all, disarm'd, to yield.
This City Titan, when he rose, beheld
Circled with Camps; and captiv'd saw the same,
Before in Western Seas he hid his Flame.

Th'ensuing Morn from Earth had chas'd away
Night's Shades, when first they Altars raise: then Slay
Unto the God of Seas, for Sacrifice,
A Bull; and so to Jove. Then equallize
Rewards to all Deserts: and, gain'd with Blood,
Valour her Crown receives. Here, shining, stood
One with rich Trappings on his Breast; and there
Another, on his Warlike Neck, did wear
A golden Snake: this with a Mural Crown
Was honour'd. But then, Lælius (in renown
Both of his Family, and Valour, all
Excelling) is created Admiral.
Besides a Gift of thirty Oxen, and
The Libyan's Arms that did, in Chief, command.
Then Spears to some, and Martial Ensigns are
To others giv'n (as they deserv'd) and share
Of Spoils. And when the Praise of Gods, and Men,
Was perfected, their Captive Riches then
Survay'd, and Prey lay'd up; this Gold was for
The Senate, and those Talents for the War.
This Kingdom they for Donatives Design;
That for the Temples of the Pow'rs Divine
Is Chiefly kept: whatever else remains
Rewards the Souldiers Valour, and their Pains.
Then the Iberian King, whose Sponsal Flame
Was fix'd deep in his Bones, as summon'd, came;
To whom, much joy'd, his Spouse, a Virgin Fair,
And Pure, he chearful gave. Then, free from Care,
Their Tables spread upon the Neighb'ring Shore,
And feasting High, with solemn Sports, before
The rest, thus Lælius. Brave General,
Go on, ador'd, for thy Chast Minde, through all
The World! To Thee the Glory, and the Praise,
And (celebrated in Immortal Lays)
The Valour of great Heroes shall give Way.
That Captain, who a thousand Ships by Sea
From the Mycenæ drew, and Argive Arms
Joyn'd with Thessalian, through a Woman's Charms,
Infring'd his Social League, and they beheld
All Tents, within the Phrygian Army, fill'd
With Captive Beds. A Barb'rous Maid by Thee
Alone, more spotless, in Virginity
Is kept, then Troy's Cassandra. Thus the Day,
In Talk, they spent, till Night in dark Aray
Rais'd her black Steeds, inviting all to Rest.

In the mean Time, Æmathian Broils infest
Th'Ætolian Land, invaded suddenly
By Macedonian Ships: an Enemy,
With whom the Acarnanian quickly joyn'd.
For then King Philip, in a League combin'd
With Libya, against the Romane Name
Those new Commotions had rais'd. The Fame
Of his Descent, his Antient Crowns, and Throne
From the Æäcides, and Thetis Son,
(His Grand-Sire) puff'd him up. Now, He with Fear
Of's Arms, by Night, fill'd Oricon: and where,
On the Illyrick Coast, Taulentians dwell,
In small, and nameless Walls, upon them fell.
With furious War. Thence passing on by Sea,
Tesprotian Borders, and Phœnicia
Alarm'd: with vain Attempts, he Epire view'd,
Then on the Coast of Anactorium shew'd
His Ensigns: then th'Ambracian Bay, and Shores
Of Pella scour'd with rapid War, his Oars
Beating Leucate's chafing Waves, he streight
At Actium saw Apollo's sacred Seat.
Nor left he Ithaca (Laërtes Throne)
Untri'd: nor Sames; nor those Rocks whereon
White-foaming Floods the Cephalenians see.
And Neriton with Rocky Fields: then He
To Pelops Countrey went, glad to behold
Achaian Walls, and Calydon of old
Affected by Diana. After these
To the Caretes, and Oeniades,
With promise, to the Greeks, 'gainst Italie,
To use his Arms, he went: then Ephyre,
Patræ, and Princely Pleuron he survay'd:
Two-crown'd Parnassus, and (by Phœbus made
To speak) Prophetick Rocks; and, though agen,
Often by War call'd homeward: sometimes when
Sarmatian Orestes did infest
His Kingdoms, or fierce Dolopes opprest
His Countrey, yet unwilling to forbear
His vain Designs, the shadow of a War
He carried up, and down, the Grecian Coast;
Till all his hopes, plac'd in the Libyans, lost
By Sea, and Land, a Suppliant, he sign'd
A League, with the Dardanians, nor declin'd
From them, in his own Kingdom, to receive
The Law: But then Tarentum's Fortune gave
To Italy encrease both of Renown,
And Riches. For, at length, that treach'rous Town,
Was by old Fabius conquer'd, and of all
His Titles, of a Wary General,
The last became. For then his Industry
Gain'd that safe Honour, that the City He
Had taken without Blood. And, when 'twas known,
That a Sidonian Captain, in the Town,
Burn'd with a Woman's Love: and that, through Ease,
A silent Treason thence might Valour please:
To his lov'd Sister, strait, her Brother (who
Then bore Rutulian Arms) is forc'd to go,
Instructed to subdue the Woman's Minde
With ample Promises, if She inclin'd
The Libyan to betray the Gates. And, thus
The Libyan overcome, old Fabius
His Wish enjoy'd, and, through th'unguarded Walls
By Night, into the Town the Army falls.

But who, that heard Marcellus then was slain
In Fight, would think, that Sol should joyn again
His flaming Steeds, so turn'd away from Rome.
That noble Person, that brave Breast, in whom
The God of War inhabited, who nev'r,
In its most horrid Shape, did Danger fear,
In Combat fell: in his renowned Fall,
(Alass) how great a Blow to Hannibal!
In him thy Terrour Carthage prostrate lay,
Who had perhaps from Scipio born away
(Had but the Gods been pleas'd awhile to spare
His Life) the Name of finishing the War.
Which seated, then, within the Daunian Land,
Between both Camps, a little Hill did stand.
Crispinus with Marcellus bore like Share
In Cares, and Honours, and the Common War
Pursu'd: to whom Marcellus thus began.

I have a Minde to view those Woods, and on
The Hill to lodg our Men; left first it be
Possess'd, in Ambush, by the Enemy.
I would Crispinus (if you please) that you
Would share in this Design; for seldom two
In Counsel fail. When this they had Decreed,
Each Man contends to mount his eager Steed.
Marcellus, when he saw his Son, among
The rest, put on his Arms, and in the Throng
Joyful, and Brisk: Thou dost appear more Great
(Said He) then Me, by thy admired Heat.
May this thy early Labour Happy be!
Such, as, at Syracusa once, I Thee
Beheld, before thine Age would Thee allow
As fit for War, engaging with a Brow,
Like mine. Oh! hither come (my Glory) stand
Close to thy Father's side, and by my Hand
Learn a new Way of Fighting. Then he lay'd
His Arms about his Neck, and briefly pray'd.
Grant, from the Libyan Gen'ral (Oh! thou King
Of Gods) that on these Shoulders I may bring
Opimous Spoils to Thee! As here he ends;
From the clear Sky a bloody Dew descends,
And Jove the Fatal Drops had sprinkled on
His (then successess) Arms. Scarce had he done
His Speech, when through the Straits, advancing up
The Fatal Mountain, strait a nimble Troop
Of Nomades upon them fly, and pour
Their Darts, as thick, as an Etherial Show'r:
While, from their secret Ambush, they supply'd
The Fight, with armed Troops. On ev'ry side,
When Valour found her self thus close beset;
And nothing, now, remaining, as a Debt
Unto the Gods: He onely sought to go,
With a great Name, unto the Shades below.
Then, at a distance, his contorted Spear
With all his Force he throws: now fights, more near
At Hand, with's Sword; and had escap'd, perchance,
That cruel Storm of Danger, if a Lance
Had not transfix'd the Body of his Son.
But then (alass!) the Father's Hands begun
To shake, and, weak through Sorrow, loosely bare
His hapless Arms, untill an obvious Spear
Pierc'd through his naked Breast; by which sad Wound
He falls, his Face imprinting on the Ground.
When Hannibal perceiv'd (amidst the Fight)
The Fatal Lance within his Bosom light,
Aloud he crys: now Carthage, cease to fear
The Romane Laws; the Name of Terrour here
Lyes prostrate, and the Column of their State.
But that brave Hand (so like mine own of late)
Shall not obscurely to the Shades be sent.
True Valour's void of Envy. Strait they went
About to build his Pyle, which to the Skies
By mighty Oaks, brought from the Woods, doth rise.
You might believe the Libyan General
Had dy'd! then Incense, Cates, his Shield, withall,
And Fasces (his last Pomp) are brought, and while,
With his own Hand, the Taper to the Pyle
The Prince applies; Eternal Praise (said He)
We have acquir'd. For of Marcellus We
Have Italy depriv'd. Perhaps they may
At length, now, lay down Arms. Go then, and pay
To that great Soul, and to his Dust, all Dues
Of Funeral. I never will refuse
Thee this (O Rome) that thou the Sepulcher
Of one, whose Valour made him Great, in War,
With Titles may'st adorn: and lasting Fame,
Among Rutulian Nephews, crown his Name.
Such is your other Consul's Fate, whose Steed
Him, breathless, to your Camp convey'd, with Speed.

Such, then, Affairs did in Ausonia stand.
But not the same, in the Iberian Land,
Was the Event of Arms. The quick Surprize,
And Conquest of New-Carthage, terrifies
The Nations round about. The Gen'rals there,
Unless they joyn with Social Aids, despair
Of Safety: since Young Scipio had fought
(As if He Thunder in his Arms had brought
From Italy) with so great Auspicies,
That he a fenced Town (whose Height their Eys
Could hardly reach, as on an Hill it stood)
Had taken in one Day, and fill'd with Blood.
While, ev'n their Warlike Hannibal, before
He overthrew Sagunthus, that for Store
Of People, and for Wealth might not appear
As Equal unto that, had spent a Year.

To his great Brother's Deeds aspiring still,
The next was Hasdrubal; who on a Hill
Encamp'd, encompass'd with a rocky Wood.
Here, his chief Strength, fierce Cantabrians stood;
Mix'd with rebellious Africans: and there,
Then the swift Moor more swift, Asturians were.
And with as much of Majesty did he
Iberia rule, as then in Italy
His Brother Hannibal with Terrour liv'd.

It chanc'd, a Tyrian Solemn Day reviv'd
Their antient Honour, and the Time, wherein
The Walls of Carthage they did first begin,
And a new City of small Houses rais'd.
His Nations Rise the General much pleas'd
Thus to commemorate, his Ensigns all
Adorn'd with Laurel, kept the Festival;
And th'Gods appeas'd. Loose from his Shoulders hung
His Brother's Gift (a Mantle) which, among
Some other Presents, as a Complement
Of their strict League, Trinacria's Prince had sent,
A stately Robe, among Æölian Kings.
An Eagle, through the Clouds, with golden Wings,
Snatch'd up (in Texture hov'ring) to the Sky
A Boy. A spacious Cave there was hard by,
Which, in the Purple, there, the Needle made,
The Cyclops House: here Polypheme was lay'd
Along, and swallow'd Bodies, dropping Gore,
Between his Deadly Jaws. About him store
Of broken Bones; which, chewing, forth he threw.
Then for his Drink, his Hand extended to
Läertes Son, he calls: and, belching up
Crude Blood, with Wine commix'd it in the Cup.
Conspicuous in this Robe, at Altars made
Of Grass, the Peace o'th'Gods the Tyrian pray'd.
When riding in, amidst them all, behold
A Scout, that Hostile Arms approach'd them, told.
The Worship of the Gods unfinished,
With troubled Minds, they from the Altars fled.
All Sacred Rites broke off, all Night they lay
Encamp'd. But, when the dewy Morn the Day
First rais'd, a furious Fight began, and there
Stout Sabbura first felt the thrilling Spear
Of Scipio. Both Armies seem'd to be
Mov'd with the Omen. The first Victim We
I'th'Field (Ye sacred Shades!) to you have slain,
(Exclaims the Romane Gen'ral) Now again
Into the Fight, and Slaughter (Souldiers) go,
As with best Captains you were wont to do.
This said; they all fall on: by Lena's Hand
Falls Myconus; Latinus, Cirta: and
Stout Maro Thysdrus kills: and Catiline
Incestuous Nëalces doth disjoyn
From his own Sister's Bed. Then Cartulo
(A Libyack Prince) is sent to Shades below,
By fierce Nasidius. Thee (likewise) Thee
Lælius (thou great Renown of Italy)
Things, scarce to be believ'd, performing there,
Amidst the Carthaginians, full of Fear,
Pyrene's Land beheld. Nature bestow'd
On him all Happy things, which were allow'd
By all the Gods. When he was heard to plead
At th'Bar, not Nestor could in Speech exceed:
Or when the Fathers, and the Court did stand
In Doubt, and his Opinion did demand,
He led the Senat's Hearts, as with a Charm.
But, when the Noise of Trumpets did Alarm
His Ears, within the Field, with such an Heat,
He rush'd into the Fight, and Armies, that
You'd think, he had been born for War alone;
And nothing, without Praise, by him was done.
From a stoln Life the Gala fighting threw:
Whom's Mother once, by changing him withdrew
From Byrsa's cruel Rites. But quickly all
Such Joys, as rise from Gods, so cheated fall.
Then Murus, Alebis, and Draces, who,
With an Effeminate Cry, for Life did sue,
By him were slain. Poor Draces, as he pray'd,
And beg'd; his Head cut off, the Murmurs stay'd
In his dissever'd Throat. But Hasdrubal
Had not the like desire to Fight. Not all
The extream Loss, and Slaughter of his Men
Him mov'd. But to the Woody Hills agen,
And lurking Holes of pathless Rocks, he flies,
And to the Alpes, and Italy his Eys
Are turn'd: the great Advantage of his Flight.
The Signal silently is giv'n, and Fight
Quite lay'd aside, they are Commanded through
The Woods, and Hills to fly dispers'd, and who
Soe're escap'd should to Pyrene's Top
Ascend, their Chief, and sole remaining Hope.
All Marks of Honour, as a General,
Then lai'd aside, disguised, with a small
Iberian Targe, first Hasdrubal ascends
The Hills, and, flying, quits his wandring Friends.
To the forsaken Camp the Romanes strait
Their Ensigns send. No City captivate
Could yield more Spoils; and did their Rage withdraw
From Slaughter, as the Libyan foresaw.
So in some Brook surpriz'd, when he despairs
Of Safety, from his Groin the Beaver tares
The parts, that caus'd his Danger, and away
Swims from his Fo. Intent upon his Prey
When thus the Libyan had with Speedy Flight,
Trusting to Rocky Woods, in Shades, like Night,
Himself conceal'd: strait back again they go
Unto a greater War, to meet a Fo
More sure to be subdu'd. But first upon
Pyrene's Hill, with this Inscription,
A Shield they fix, Scipio a Conquerour,
Hasdrubal's Spoils Unto The God Of War.

In the mean time, beyond the Hills (all Fear
Now lay'd aside) Bebrycian People were
By Hasdrubal soon arm'd: who Prodigal
To purchase Hands for Aid, and ready all
Prepar'd to thrust into the War, with Store
Of Gold, and Silver, thither sent before
And with long Labours gain'd, in Wealthy Lands
Had rais'd their Warlike Minds. Hence active Bands
Fill'd the new Camp. All Mercenary Souls:
Those, that where Rhodanus swift Billows rowls
Delight to dwell; with those, where Arar flows
Most softly through the Fields. And, now, the Snows
Of Winter all resolv'd, the Year retains
A milder Face. Then through the Celtick Plains,
Entring a speedy March, he goes: admires
The Conquer'd Alps, and pervious Heights: enquires
The very Foot-steps, where Alcides trod:
Compares with th'Adventures of the God
His Brother's Ways. When to the Top of all
He came, and in the Camp of Hannibal
Sate down: What higher Walls (said He) do Rome
Invest? which, after these once overcome
By my great Brother, stand yet safe? Oh, may
The Glory of so brave a Hand (I pray)
Prove Happy! nor, let it the Envy be
Of any angry Deity, that We
The Stars approach'd! Then, where a safe Descent
The Hill declining shew'd, strait down he went,
With hasty Arms. Through all, so great a Dread
Not the Beginnings of the War had spread.
Two Hannibals they now report: and two
Strong Camps, on either side: and glutted, through
Success, with Romane Blood, the Chiefs the War
Joyntly pursue. The Armies doubled are,
And to the Walls the Fo would quickly haste,
And, sticking on the Gates, they Jav'lins, cast
From Elysæan Hands, should shortly see.
Much vex'd at this, the Land of Italy
Thus with her self. Alass! ye Gods, must I
With so great Fury of the Libyans ly
Despis'd? who Saturn, when the pow'rful Hand
Of Jove he fear'd, conceal'd: and in my Land
An Empire gave! Now the tenth Summer's Corn
Appears, since thus I have been sadly torn.
And, now, a Youth, who wanteth nothing more,
But to invade the Gods, the farthest Shore
O'th'World hath left, and's Arms against me bends,
And, the high Alps prophan'd, with Rage descends
Into my Land. How many Corps have I
Of Slain entomb'd? Alass! how often by
My slaughter'd Sons deform'd? I have no Trees
With pregnant Buds: his Corn the Peasant sees,
Yet Green, cut down with Swords: the Tow'rs of all
My Villages into my Bosom fall,
And by their Ruins is my Land defac't.
Yet, now, must I endure this Youth at last,
By whom my wasted Coasts invaded are,
Who seeks the ruthful Reliques of the War
To burn. Then wandring Africans may rend
My Bowels with their Ploughs, and Moors commend
The Crops, which the Ausonian Furrows yield.
Unless their Troops, insulting through the Field,
I, in one Grave, interr. As, thus, She then
Her Woes revolv'd, and Night both Gods, and Men
Compos'd to Rest; to Nero's Camp She went.
He, with a Neighb'ring Trench, was then intent
The Libyan from Lucanian Coasts to keep.
The Youth, here, Latium's Image, in his Sleep,
Accosts. O Nero! Thou, who art become
(Marcellus lost) the greatest Hope of Rome!
The Clausi's Glory! shake off Sleep; by Thee
Something of Moment must attempted be,
(If thou wilt add unto thy Country's Fates)
Which ev'n the Conquerours (when from the Gates
The Foe's repuls'd) shall wonder to be done.
With shining Arms (behold!) Amilcar's Son,
Like a dire Deluge, overruns the Plains,
Where Sena still her Gallick Name retains:
Unless thy winged Troops Thou thither strait
Draw out to Fight, thine Aid will come too late
To ruin'd Rome hereafter. Rise; be gone:
I have condemn'd Metaurus Region,
And all those spacious Fields, to Libyan Bones,
And Graves. This said: She vanishing, at once
Appears to draw him after Her, and through
The broken Gates to drive his Troops into
The Field. With that he wakes, and Troubled stands
With an enflamed Heart, and then, with Hands
Listed to Heav'n, He prays the Earth, and Night,
The scatter'd Stars, and Moon, with silent Light
To be his Guides. Then, choosing proper Hands
For such a Work, through Larinatian Lands
(Coasting upon the Upper-Sea) and where,
Hardy in War, Marrucine People were,
And the strict Frentane, that his Faith maintains
In Social Arms: where the Prætutian Swains
(Pleas'd with their Labour) dress their Vines, he flyes,
Swift as a Bird; as Lightning from the Skies;
As Torrents with Hybernal Billows flow;
Or Arrows, from an Achemenian Bow.
Each Man himself exhorts. Go on, and haste;
For in thy Feet the doubtful Gods have plac'd
Rome's Safety: whether She shall stand, or fall.
Thus crying, on they go; the General
Best Exhortation, being Foremost, gives:
While ev'ry one, his Speed encreasing, strives,
By following, to equal him, and Day,
And Night, un-wearied, nimbly March away.

But the Report of those encreasing Ills,
O'th'adverse War, all Rome with Terrour fills.
That Nero hop'd too much, they now complain.
That by one Wound that Life, that did remain,
Might soon be lost. Nor Money, Arms, nor Men,
Nor Blood to lose, there now remain'd. And then,
Who had not strength to deal with Hannibal,
Alone, in Fight, should fall on Hasdrubal.
That now again (soon as the Libyan saw
His Arms diverted from the Camp) he'd draw
His Forces to their Gates. That he was come,
Who, in the Glory of destroying Rome,
Would strive with his Proud Brother. With one mind
Thus frets the Senate; yet in Counsel joyn'd,
To keep their Honour, and themselves to Free
From threatned Chains, and angry Gods to flee.
Amidst these Sighs, Nero, protected by
An obscure Night, unto the Camp drew nigh;
Where, near to Hasdrubal, within the Field,
Old Livy lay. He Warlike once, and skill'd
In Feats of Arms, flourish'd in former Times,
Famous in War; but, falsly charg'd with Crimes
By the Unequal Tribes, in Discontent,
His Days obscurely in the Countrey spent.
But, when a sadder Weight, and Fears began,
Through nearer Dangers, to require the Man,
After so many Valiant Captains slain;
Then, to his Countrey call'd, to Arms again
His aged Valour He had vow'd. But all
These Plots of new Supplies to Hasdrubal
Were known, and what the Wings of Night conceal'd
The Signs of Dust upon their Shields reveal'd.
Besides their hasty Running to, and fro:
Their Horse, and Men prepar'd, and Trumpets show
(As they the Signal sound) the Camp to be
Commanded by two Gen'rals. But (said He)
If yet my Brother live, how can they now
Their Social Forces joyn? Yet, till I know
The Truth, it onely now remains, that I
The Time protract, and Chance of Fighting fly.
Nor, with base Fear, this poor resolve of Flight
Did he delay. But, when from Cares the Night
(Mother of Rest) had freed the Breasts of Men,
And Darkness dreadful Silence nourish'd, then
Forth from his Camp he breaks, and his mute Bands
To follow with a silent March commands;
Who, through the quiet Plain, protected by
The gloomy Night, all Noise avoiding, fly.
But shaken, by a Motion so great,
Th'Italian Land, perceiving their Deceit,
Involves them in dark Errours in the Place,
And (Night conspiring) in a narrow Space
Still leads them round. For, where, with winding Waves
His crooked Banks the Flood obliquely laves;
And, through rough Creeks returning, falls again
Into it self, there toiling, all in vain
With fruitless Wandrings, a small Circuit they
Had made, and, in the Errours of their Way,
(The Benefit of Night now lost) the Light
Comes on, and to their Foes detects their Flight.
With that a furious Storm of Horse, the Gates
Thrown open, and a Show'r of Steel dilates
It self, or'e all the Field. Arms, yet, they none,
Nor Hands had mix'd: But Shafts, at distance thrown,
Drink Blood. To stop the flying Libyans, here
Dictæan Arrows fly: and Lances there,
Like a black Tempest, and on whom they light
They Death inflict. And, now all thoughts of Flight
Quite lai'd aside, about they, frighted, Face,
And close drawn-up, their Hopes in Fightingplace.
Amidst them all, the Gen'ral, mounted High
(For now He saw their sad Extremity)
On a tall Steed, his Hands, and Voice extends:
By all those Trophies gain'd by You (my Friends)
Under the farthest Pole; my Brother's Praise:
Make it appear, I You beseech (He says):
The Brother of Great Hannibal is come;
For Fortune labours, now, to give to Rome
Sad Documents, and shew how strong an Hand
You, that have conquer'd the Iberian Land,
And at Alcides Pillars us'd to War,
On the Rutulians turn. Perhaps, not far
From hence, my Brother to this Battel may
Arrive. Oh! hasten worthy him (I pray)
A Spectacle; with Bodies fill the Plain.
Each General is by my Brother slain,
That might be fear'd, in War: and now their sole
Remaining Hope, drawn from his skulking Hole.
Decrepit Livy (a condemned Head)
Is offer'd to you. Oh! go on, strike Dead
That General, cut off his Feeble Age,
'Gainst whom 'twere Shame my Brother should engage.
But Nero contrary exhorts: Why are
You slow, the Labours of this mighty War
To end? Your Feet already Praise have gain'd,
Now crown these high Beginnings with the Hand:
The Camp you, rashly (all the Bars o'rethrown)
Have left, except you perfect what is done
By Victory. Your Glory hasten: show
That your Arrival overthrew the Fo.

But Livy, in another Quarter, where,
His Helmet taken off, his hoary Hair
Was seen to all, cries; Come (my Lads) and Me
Observe in Fight, and wheresoe're you see
My Sword shall make your Way, there enter; so
The Alps (too open to the wastful Fo)
Shut with your Swords, at length. Unless we quite
Destroy this Army, by a sudden Flight,
That Thunder-bolt of Carthage (Hannibal)
Will soon be here. Then who is He of all
The Gods, that Us from Stygian Shades can free?
Then he resumes his Cask, and instantly
His Sword confirms his Words, and ('s Age from sight
Again conceal'd) He enters first the Fight.
Him through the thickest Bodies of the Field,
Breaking through closest Ranks: who, furious, kill'd
As many, as he Shafts discharg'd; with Dread
The Macæ, and fierce Autololians fled:
With Bands of Rhodanus, their Hair unshorn.
'Mong the Prophetick Sands of Hammon born,
Secure of Fate, there Nabis fiercely fought,
And mighty Trophies (as if then he thought
The Gods protected him) to fix at Home,
Had vainly promis'd. From the Tyrian Loom,
Flaming with Garamantick Gems a Vest
He wears (so shine the Stars in Heav'n) his Crest
With Gems, with radiant Gold his Shield enchac't;
On's horned Cask the hanging Fillets cast
A sacred Dread, and Honour of the Gods:
A Bowe, and Quiver, which with Shafts he loads
In Cerasts steep'd, hang at his Back; and, so
With Poison Arm'd, to Battle doth he go
Then leaning, backward, on his Horse (as he
His Country's Custom us'd) upon his Knee
Resting the Weight of his Sarmatick Spear,
It, prone, upon his Foes he thrusts, and there
With that vast weapon, through his Arms, and through
His Body, wounded, in the Consul's view,
Sabellus, with loud Shouts, he bears along
In Triumph, praising Hammon in his Song.
But the old Consul, who so great a Pride,
And Rage, in Barb'rous Breasts could not abide,
A Weapon lanc'd, and both his Life, and Prey
A Conqu'rour, from the Conqu'rour took away.
Hearing the Cries of his sad Fall, amain
The Libyan Prince came on, and from the Plain
As Arabus was then about to take
His Spoils, made Stiff with Gold, and Gems, at's Back
A Weapon aim'd, and through the Chine him strook,
Just as, in both his Hands, in Haste he took
His Prize, and left his trembling Body bare.
He fell, and all the Sacred Garments, there,
And golden Threads restor'd (unhappy) to
The Dead, and dy'd upon his spoiled Fo.

But Canthus, Owner of much Libyan Sand,
Where their Unconquer'd Name unto the Land
The fam'd Philêni gave, Wealthy in Sheep,
Kill'd Rutulus, where lofty Folds did keep
A thousand bleating Lambs, spending his Days
In easy Care. Sometimes the Sun's hot Rays,
He from his Flocks would break, in some cool Flood:
Sometimes retiring to a shady Wood,
Shining, as white as Snow, their Fleeces shear'd.
Or when, at Night, they Home again repair'd
From Pasture, was much pleas'd to see the Lambs,
Within the Flood, distinguishing their Dams.
Deceiv'd He fell, through his brass Target strook,
And griev'd too late, that he his Folds forsook.
At this the Romanes forward press'd, and came
More Furious on. Like Torrents, Storm, or Flame
Of Thunder: swift as Waves from Boreas fly,
Or hollow Clouds run on, when to the Sky
Eurus throws up the Ocean's briny Flood.
Tall Cohorts, with their Celtick Ensigns, stood
I'th' Van; which, with their wedg-like Files, their fierce
Impulse, and sudden Force they soon disperse:
And tyr'd with Wandring, and the scorching Sun,
And tedious Labours they had undergon,
A native Terrour makes them all to fly.
The Romanes, at their Backs, their Weapons ply,
And with their following Shafts so instant are,
That they no Flight allow. Strait, Tyrus there
Fell with one Wound. By more fell Rhodanus,
With Arrows pierc'd. A Lance thrust Morius
Down to the Earth. Whom Livy, that full speed
Came on, as he was falling, strook, and's Steed
Into the Troops, as they were flying, spur'd.
There Mosa's swelling Neck he with his Sword
Cut off: his Head, within his Helmet bound,
Falling so high, shook with its Weight the Ground;
While the yet-setting Trunk his Steed convey'd,
Frighted, into the Fight. Here Cato said
(For he among the thickest fought) If He
Had first the Tyrian Youth oppos'd, when We
In Battel lost the Alps, alass! how great
An Hand from Italy had found Retreat?
How many Funerals to Libyans, slain,
Might the sad Suffrage of that Fatal Plain
Have giv'n? But, now, the Armies 'gan to yield.
An universal Terrour, through the Field,
The Celtæ's Fear had spread. The Tyrian Side
Declines, and Victory her selfe apply'd
To the Rutulian Arms. The Consul high
As in his prime of Years, Triumphantly
Went on, and still more great appear'd to all.
But now, behold, the Libyan General
Comes on, and with him brings a Troop, all White
With Dust: and, lancing Darts, exclaims; Your Flight
Forbear; who is this Fo, from whom you fly?
Do you not blush? Our Troops are routed by
An old Man's Feeble Arms. Am I (I pray)
Now grown Degenerate in War? or say
Are Ye grown Weary of Me? Me? who am
Of Belus Race, ally'd to Dido's Name.
Amilcar was my Sire, in War to all
To be preferr'd; my Brother Hannibal,
To whom the Hills, Lakes, Plains, and Rivers yield.
I am the next to Him, at Carthage, held.
Me Bætis in her Coasts, and Nations, where
My Arms have been, do, ev'n with Him, compare.
As this he spake, He rush'd into the Fight,
And soon, as with his shining Arms in Sight
The Consul came, too hastily, at Him
A Jav'lin threw; which, passing through the Brim
Of's brasen Shield, and, at the Top of all
His Breast-plate entring, lightly, in its Fall,
His Shoulder wounded, drawing little Blood;
Although the Libyan thought, it would make good
His vain Conceits. The Romanes were dismai'd
At this. When thus the Consul, to upbraid
His weak Attempt (You might believe that in
Some Womens Broils, or Boys, he scratch'd had been)
Cries; Go, my Lads, and let them understand,
How great the Wounds are, that a Romane Hand
Inflicts. Then suddenly a mighty Show'r
Of Darts, whose Shadow hides the Sun, they pour
Upon the Fo, and all the spacious Plain
Alternate Slaughter strews with Bodies slain:
Whose Heaps encreasing, in the River, joyn'd
The Banks. So, when Diana hath a Minde
To hunt in shady Groves, and Sport to shew
To her pleas'd Mother, and the Woody Brow
Of lofty Pindus shakes, or takes a View
Of Mænalus, with Arrows charg'd, a Crew
Of Nymphs about her flock, and strait surround
The Pathless Cop'ces. There the Quivers sound,
And loosely hanging, all the Shafts drawn out,
Leap at their Backs; while still they beat about
The Fields. Then on the Rocks, in Coverts, in
The Vallies, Rivers, and the Dens, (still Green
With Moss) the Slaughter'd Beasts in Plenty ly.
Then on some Mountain, with a joyful Eye,
The Prey collected, pleas'd, Latona views.
But furious Nero, when he heard the News
Of Livy's Wound, breaks through the thickest, and
Perceiving, that the Fight did Equal stand.
What now unto the Fates of Italy
Is left? (said He) If you this Enemy
Do not or'ecome; how will you Hannibal
Subdue? With that, as Mad, amidst them all
He rush'd: and, when he Hasdrubal beheld
Among the foremost Troops, with Fury swell'd.
Like a Sea-Monster, that hath long been tost
In the vast Deep, quite void of all repast,
When 'mong the Waves a Fish, far off, She spies;
She boils within, and then, with eager Eys,
Pursuing in the Flood her swimming Prey,
Swallows, with Fishes mix'd, the Briny Sea.
Now no delay of Darts, or Words. Thou Me
No more shalt 'scape; Pyrene's Woods (said He)
Shall not deceive Me here; nor yet, with vain,
And faithless Promises, shalt thou again
Delude; as, captiv'd in th'Iberian Land,
With a false League, thou once didst fly my Hand.
Thus Nero: and withall he threw a Dart,
And not in Vain. For in the lower Part
Of's Side it stuck. With that, on him he leaps
With's Sword: and, as with's Target-Point he keeps
His trembling Body down, If now (said He)
At the last Gasp, Thou dost desire it, We
Unto thy Brother thy Commands will bear.
To whom the Libyan replies; I fear
Not Death: make use of this thy Victory;
Till to my Shade a swift Revenger He
Arrive. But, if unto my Brother Thou
Wilt bear my last Desires, then say; that now
I bid him burn the Capitol, and there
Mix, with the Ashes of the Thunderer,
My Bones, and Dust. As more he did desire
To add, his Heart still boiling-up with Ire,
The Conqu'rour pierc'd him with his Sword, and then
Cut off his Faithless Head. With that, his Men
(Their Gen'ral slain) are routed, and the Fight
No more pursue: and now, at length, the Night
The Sun, and Day obscures: when they repair
With mod'rate Food, and Sleep, their Strength, and bare
(The Way they came) their Conqu'ring Ensigns, er'e
The Day return'd back to the Camp, for Fear
Shut up. Then Nero (as He did advance
The Libyan's Head, aloft, upon his Lance)
Said; Cannæ, Trebia, Thrasimenus We
With this thy Brother's Head have now to Thee
Repay'd (O Hannibal.) Thy Treach'rous War
Ingeminate, and hither call from far
Thy doubled Troops. Such their Reward shall be,
Who (the Alps cross'd) desire to joyn with Thee.
But Hannibal, who did his Tears suppress,
By Constant bearing, made his Sorrows less:
And vows, in time, fit Sacrifice to pay
Unto his Brother's Shade. Then, far away,
His Camp removes: and so, dissembling right,
His Griefs by Quiet, shuns a Dubious Fight.