Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
 | I. |
|
 |
|
Battle.
|
| II. |
 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Battle.
See Rout. Slaughter.
Mean while the Trojan Squadron to the Town
Approaches, and th' Etrurian Chiefs, and all
The Army of the Horse, compos'd in Troops
By certain Numbers rang'd:—o'er all the Field
The bounding Coursers struggle with the Bit,
Now This, now That Way turn'd, and neigh aloud:
A Wood of Jav'lins rises: and the Plain
Glows dreadful with the Iron Gleam of Arms.
—The Latins on the Field
Stand opposite: with Hands drawn back protend
Their threat'ning Spears, and shake their brandish'd Darts.
The Noise of trampling Feet, and neighing Steeds
Burns in the Air, and nearer rolls the Fight.
Now within Jav'lins Reach both Armies stood.
Loud with a sudden Shout in Onset fierce
They rush amain, and rouse their thund'ring Steeds:
Thick as a Storm of Snow their Arrows pour,
And darken all the Sky—
Approaches, and th' Etrurian Chiefs, and all
The Army of the Horse, compos'd in Troops
By certain Numbers rang'd:—o'er all the Field
The bounding Coursers struggle with the Bit,
Now This, now That Way turn'd, and neigh aloud:
A Wood of Jav'lins rises: and the Plain
Glows dreadful with the Iron Gleam of Arms.
—The Latins on the Field
Stand opposite: with Hands drawn back protend
Their threat'ning Spears, and shake their brandish'd Darts.
99
Burns in the Air, and nearer rolls the Fight.
Now within Jav'lins Reach both Armies stood.
Loud with a sudden Shout in Onset fierce
They rush amain, and rouse their thund'ring Steeds:
Thick as a Storm of Snow their Arrows pour,
And darken all the Sky—
Forthwith the Lines disorder'd croud: And turn'd
In Flight, the Latins cast their Shields behind,
And spur their smoking Horses to the Town.
The Trojans urge the Chace: Asylas Chief
Leads on the Troops: They now approach'd the Gates:
The Latins in their Turn, with deaf'ning Shout,
Wheel round their Steeds, and bend their pliant Necks:
The Trojans fly, and slack the waving Reins.
In Flight, the Latins cast their Shields behind,
And spur their smoking Horses to the Town.
The Trojans urge the Chace: Asylas Chief
Leads on the Troops: They now approach'd the Gates:
The Latins in their Turn, with deaf'ning Shout,
Wheel round their Steeds, and bend their pliant Necks:
The Trojans fly, and slack the waving Reins.
Twice to their Walls the Tuscans drove in Flight
The Rutuli: Twice, cover'd with their Shields,
Themselves look back, and see the Foes pursue.
But when, engaging in the third Assault,
All Battle joyn'd, and Man to Man oppos'd:
Then dying Groans are heard: and drown'd in Gore
Arms, Bodies, gasping Steeds, and slaughter'd Men
Promiscuous roll:—a rigid Fight ensues.—
All with their utmost Force exerted strive:
The Rutuli: Twice, cover'd with their Shields,
Themselves look back, and see the Foes pursue.
But when, engaging in the third Assault,
All Battle joyn'd, and Man to Man oppos'd:
Then dying Groans are heard: and drown'd in Gore
Arms, Bodies, gasping Steeds, and slaughter'd Men
Promiscuous roll:—a rigid Fight ensues.—
Nor Pause, nor Respite: with vast Conflict fierce
They push, and sweat, and labour o'er the Field—
—As in War,
The long extended Legion forms in Lines
It's Cohorts: when the marshall'd Squadrons stand
In the wide Plain: and, the whole Army rang'd,
The Ground all fluctuates with the brazen Gleam:
Nor yet in horrid Shock the Battle joins,
But Mars, uncertain, hovers o'er the Field.—
And now, the fainting Stars at length gave Way,
And hid their vanquish'd Fires in beamy Day:
When round their Leader's Tent the Legions croud,
And, urg'd by Fate, demand the Fight aloud.
Wretches! that long their little Life to waste,
And hurry on those Hours that fly too fast!
Too soon, for thousands, shall the Day be done,
Whose Eyes no more shall see the setting Sun!—
And hid their vanquish'd Fires in beamy Day:
When round their Leader's Tent the Legions croud,
And, urg'd by Fate, demand the Fight aloud.
101
And hurry on those Hours that fly too fast!
Too soon, for thousands, shall the Day be done,
Whose Eyes no more shall see the setting Sun!—
Loud thro' the Camp the rising Murmurs sound,
And one tumultuous Hurry runs around:
Sudden their busy Hearts began to beat,
And each pale Visage wore the Marks of Fate.
And one tumultuous Hurry runs around:
Sudden their busy Hearts began to beat,
And each pale Visage wore the Marks of Fate.
And now the Warriors all with busy Care,
Whet the dull Sword, and point the blunted Spear:
With tougher Nerves they string the bended Bow,
And in full Quivers steely Shafts bestow:
The Horseman sees his Furniture made fit,
Sharpens the Spur, and burnishes the Bit:
Fixes the Rein to check, or urge his Speed,
And animates to Fight the snorting Steed.—
Whet the dull Sword, and point the blunted Spear:
With tougher Nerves they string the bended Bow,
And in full Quivers steely Shafts bestow:
The Horseman sees his Furniture made fit,
Sharpens the Spur, and burnishes the Bit:
Fixes the Rein to check, or urge his Speed,
And animates to Fight the snorting Steed.—
Cæsar scarce spoke, when sudden at the Word,
They seize the Lance, and draw the shining Sword:
At once the turfy Fences all lie waste,
And thro' the Breach the crowding Legions haste:
Regardless all of Order, and Array,
They stand, and trust to Fate alone the Day.
They seize the Lance, and draw the shining Sword:
At once the turfy Fences all lie waste,
And thro' the Breach the crowding Legions haste:
Regardless all of Order, and Array,
They stand, and trust to Fate alone the Day.
Strait, at the fatal Signal, all around
A thousand Fifes, a thousand Clarions sound:
Beyond where Clouds, or glancing Lightnings fly,
The piercing Clangors strike the vaulted Sky.
The joining Battles shout, and the loud Peal
Bounds from the Hill, and thunders down the Vale.—
A thousand Fifes, a thousand Clarions sound:
Beyond where Clouds, or glancing Lightnings fly,
The piercing Clangors strike the vaulted Sky.
The joining Battles shout, and the loud Peal
Bounds from the Hill, and thunders down the Vale.—
Now flit the thrilling Darts thro' liquid Air,
And various Vows from various Masters bear.
And various Vows from various Masters bear.
Firm in the Front, with joining Bucklers clos'd,
Stood the Pompeian Infantry dispos'd:
So crowded was the Space, it scarce affords
The Pow'r to toss their Piles, or weild their Swords.
Forward, thus thick embattled tho' they stand,
With headlong Wrath rush furious Cæsar's Band:
In vain the lifted Shield their Rage retards,
Or plaited Mail devoted Bosoms guards:
Thro' Shields, thro' Mail, the wounding Weapons go,
And to the Heart drive home each deadly Blow.
Stood the Pompeian Infantry dispos'd:
So crowded was the Space, it scarce affords
The Pow'r to toss their Piles, or weild their Swords.
Forward, thus thick embattled tho' they stand,
With headlong Wrath rush furious Cæsar's Band:
103
Or plaited Mail devoted Bosoms guards:
Thro' Shields, thro' Mail, the wounding Weapons go,
And to the Heart drive home each deadly Blow.
From Pompey's ample Wings, at length, the Horse
Wide o'er the Plain extending, take their Course:
Wheeling, around the hostile Line they wind,
While lightly arm'd the Slingers march behind.
In various Ways the various Bands engage,
And hurl upon the Foe the missile Rage:
There fiery Darts, and rocky Fragments fly,
And heating Bullets whistle thro' the Sky.
Of feather'd Shafts, a Cloud thick shading goes,
From Arab, Mede, and Ituræan Bows:
But driv'n by random Aim they seldom wound:
They hide the Heav'n at first, then strew the Ground:
While Roman Hands unerring Mischief send,
And certain Deaths on ev'ry Pile attend.
Wide o'er the Plain extending, take their Course:
Wheeling, around the hostile Line they wind,
While lightly arm'd the Slingers march behind.
In various Ways the various Bands engage,
And hurl upon the Foe the missile Rage:
There fiery Darts, and rocky Fragments fly,
And heating Bullets whistle thro' the Sky.
Of feather'd Shafts, a Cloud thick shading goes,
From Arab, Mede, and Ituræan Bows:
But driv'n by random Aim they seldom wound:
They hide the Heav'n at first, then strew the Ground:
While Roman Hands unerring Mischief send,
And certain Deaths on ev'ry Pile attend.
But Cæsar, timely careful, to support
His wav'ring Front against the first Effort,
A Body of Reserve, in silence sent,
To where the wheeling Foe their Fury bent.
Then Pompey's Troops, nor mindful of the Fight,
Nor stay'd by Shame, betake themselves to Flight.
Some fiery Steeds, impatient of a Wound,
Their Riders throw, and trample on the Ground:
Strait the whole Corps with sudden Terror turn,
And, in their flying, o'er their Friends are born.
Hence foul Confusion, and Dismay succeed,
The Victors murder, and the Vanquish'd bleed.—
His wav'ring Front against the first Effort,
A Body of Reserve, in silence sent,
To where the wheeling Foe their Fury bent.
Then Pompey's Troops, nor mindful of the Fight,
Nor stay'd by Shame, betake themselves to Flight.
Some fiery Steeds, impatient of a Wound,
Their Riders throw, and trample on the Ground:
Strait the whole Corps with sudden Terror turn,
And, in their flying, o'er their Friends are born.
Hence foul Confusion, and Dismay succeed,
The Victors murder, and the Vanquish'd bleed.—
Prevailing still, the Victors held their Course,
Till Pompey's main Reserve oppos'd their Force
There in his Strength the Chief unshaken stood,
Repell'd the Foe, and made the Combat good:
There in suspense th' uncertain Battle hung,
And Cæsar's fav'ring Goddess doubted long.—
Till Pompey's main Reserve oppos'd their Force
There in his Strength the Chief unshaken stood,
Repell'd the Foe, and made the Combat good:
There in suspense th' uncertain Battle hung,
And Cæsar's fav'ring Goddess doubted long.—
105
But Pompey soon, the Fate of Rome descry'd,
And saw the changing Gods forsake his Side.
Hard to believe, tho' from a rising Ground
He view'd the universal Ruin round;
In crimson Streams he saw Destruction run,
And in the Fall of Thousands felt his own.
Nor wish'd he, like most Wretches in Despair,
The World one common Misery might share:
But with a generous, great, exalted Mind,
Besought the Gods to pity poor Mankind,
To let him dye, and leave the rest behind.
And saw the changing Gods forsake his Side.
Hard to believe, tho' from a rising Ground
He view'd the universal Ruin round;
In crimson Streams he saw Destruction run,
And in the Fall of Thousands felt his own.
Nor wish'd he, like most Wretches in Despair,
The World one common Misery might share:
But with a generous, great, exalted Mind,
Besought the Gods to pity poor Mankind,
To let him dye, and leave the rest behind.
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |