Lvcans Pharsalia Containing The Ciuill Warres betweene Caesar and Pompey. Written In Latine Heroicall Verse by M. Annaevs Lvcanus. Translated into English verse by Sir Arthur Gorges ... Whereunto is annexed the life of the Authour, collected out of diuers Authors |
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The fifth Booke.
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165
The fifth Booke.
The Argvment.
In Greece the Senate doe decree,That Pompey shall their leader be.
Then Appius doth to Delphos goe,
The Oracles aduice to know.
Now Cæsar hauing maistered Spaine,
His mutiners supprest againe.
And then to Rome in haste he goth,
There Consull and Dictator both.
Thence to Brundusium he departs,
And to Epyrus bends his Marts,
He rashly venters on the Maine:
Then comes Antonius with his traine.
Pompey Cornelia doth betake
To Lesbos, whilst he warre doth make.
These Captaines now on either side,
The wrackes of Ciuill warre had try'd,
And Fortune partiall vnto neither,
Mingled good lucke and bad together;
Bringing them with an equall hand,
Into the Macedonian land.
Mount Æmus now was thatch't with snow,
That from th' Atlanticke skies did blow.
And then the feast dayes onward drew,
VVhich did their Magistrates renew.
And that prime season gan appeare,
That leads the vaunt-gard of the yeare.
But whilst some latter time remaines
To those that yet doe rule the raines,
The Consuls both did then decree
The Senate should assembled be,
VVith those great Lords both farre & neare,
In Prouinces did office beare.
And then Epyrus they did chuse
The place for this warres Randezvous.
But oh this forraigne sordid seat!
For Roman Peeres was farre vnmeet.
It needs must be a scornfull iest,
That their high Court should be a guest
In stranger lands, there to debate
The Councels of the Empires state.
For who a Campe will deeme this place,
That all the Consuls axes grace?
The Senates reuerend order sayes,
They runne not after Pompeys wayes.
But Pompey for the publicke cause,
Saith he obserues the Senates lawes.
The wrackes of Ciuill warre had try'd,
And Fortune partiall vnto neither,
Mingled good lucke and bad together;
Bringing them with an equall hand,
Into the Macedonian land.
166
That from th' Atlanticke skies did blow.
And then the feast dayes onward drew,
VVhich did their Magistrates renew.
And that prime season gan appeare,
That leads the vaunt-gard of the yeare.
But whilst some latter time remaines
To those that yet doe rule the raines,
The Consuls both did then decree
The Senate should assembled be,
VVith those great Lords both farre & neare,
In Prouinces did office beare.
And then Epyrus they did chuse
The place for this warres Randezvous.
But oh this forraigne sordid seat!
For Roman Peeres was farre vnmeet.
It needs must be a scornfull iest,
That their high Court should be a guest
In stranger lands, there to debate
The Councels of the Empires state.
For who a Campe will deeme this place,
That all the Consuls axes grace?
The Senates reuerend order sayes,
They runne not after Pompeys wayes.
But Pompey for the publicke cause,
Saith he obserues the Senates lawes.
Now when these sad assembled Peeres,
VVith silence gaue attentiue eares:
Lord Lentulus from his high Throne,
In these words makes his meaning knowne;
If courage such your mindes doe feed,
As worthy of the Latium breed:
Or ancient blood boyle in your breast,
VVhat matter is't where Romans rest:
Regard not how farre we reside
From Rome, by Cæsar vilefi'd.
But know you now with loue and grace
Your natiue Countrey peoples face.
First therefore reuerend Fathers heare,
By all your powers make it appeare
That you the rightfull Senate are,
Whose high decrees in peace and warre,
Nations must reuerence neere and farre.
For be it so that Fortunes sway
Would carry vs so farre away,
As where the ycie lesser Beare
Doth dimly twinkle in the spheare:
Or else whereas the Torrid Zone
Refreshing vapours casteth none.
But alwayes with one counterpaise
Equals the length of nights and dayes;
Yet wheresoeuer we should roame,
There alwayes is the Empires home.
With vs we hold, as proper mate,
The supreame care and rule of state.
So when with fire the furious Gaules
Assail'd the high Tarpeian walles;
At Veia did Camillus wonne,
And there did Rome her fortune runne.
The Senatorian ordred state
Is neuer chang'd by place or date.
Cæsar the City doth retaine,
Whose houses empty do remaine.
The mourning Courts he ouer-awes,
Where Armes haue silenced the lawes.
The Roman Courts know but the face
Of Senators which he did chase
From out the Citty swarming than;
And him that Cæsar did not ban
Of that great Senatorian traine,
His fellowship we must disdaine.
That fury first did scatter such
As did at wicked discord grutch;
Who with their children and their wiues,
In peace desir'd to lead their liues.
But yet for all this raging vaine,
Here are we now well met againe.
And all the Gods in recompence
Of Italie (though chast from thence)
Hath giuen vs (to cheere our hearts)
The whole worlds force that takes our parts.
And now in the Ilirian maine,
Vulteius and his troopes are slaine.
And Curio, that was greatest part
Of Cæsars Senate in his Mart;
Lies foyl'd, with all his Martiall bands,
In Affrickes filthy parched sands.
Therefore your Ensignes now display,
Braue Captaines thrust on Fortunes way;
In Ioues high grace your hopes repose,
Your mindes as forward now expose,
Against the forces of your foes,
As you were ready then to run,
When their approches you did shun.
Our power no further doth extend,
For with the yeare the Consuls end.
But reuerend Lords your powerfull state
Is not confin'd to any date.
Therefore conclude amongst you all,
That Pompey be your General.
Hereat the Senate did reioyce,
And then decreed with one voyce,
That they would lay on Pompey's fate,
The publique and their priuate state.
That done, to honors they prefer'd
The Kings and people that deseru'd.
And vnto Rhodes, Apollo's seat,
(Whose power by sea was stout and great)
They presents gaue, and for their truth,
The like vnto the homely youth
Of Taygety; and then the Towne
Of ancient Athens they renowne.
And to Massilians (Cæsars spoyle)
They freely gaue the Phocean soyle.
VVith silence gaue attentiue eares:
Lord Lentulus from his high Throne,
In these words makes his meaning knowne;
If courage such your mindes doe feed,
As worthy of the Latium breed:
Or ancient blood boyle in your breast,
VVhat matter is't where Romans rest:
Regard not how farre we reside
From Rome, by Cæsar vilefi'd.
But know you now with loue and grace
Your natiue Countrey peoples face.
First therefore reuerend Fathers heare,
By all your powers make it appeare
167
Whose high decrees in peace and warre,
Nations must reuerence neere and farre.
For be it so that Fortunes sway
Would carry vs so farre away,
As where the ycie lesser Beare
Doth dimly twinkle in the spheare:
Or else whereas the Torrid Zone
Refreshing vapours casteth none.
But alwayes with one counterpaise
Equals the length of nights and dayes;
Yet wheresoeuer we should roame,
There alwayes is the Empires home.
With vs we hold, as proper mate,
The supreame care and rule of state.
So when with fire the furious Gaules
Assail'd the high Tarpeian walles;
At Veia did Camillus wonne,
And there did Rome her fortune runne.
The Senatorian ordred state
Is neuer chang'd by place or date.
Cæsar the City doth retaine,
Whose houses empty do remaine.
The mourning Courts he ouer-awes,
Where Armes haue silenced the lawes.
The Roman Courts know but the face
Of Senators which he did chase
From out the Citty swarming than;
And him that Cæsar did not ban
Of that great Senatorian traine,
His fellowship we must disdaine.
That fury first did scatter such
As did at wicked discord grutch;
Who with their children and their wiues,
In peace desir'd to lead their liues.
But yet for all this raging vaine,
Here are we now well met againe.
And all the Gods in recompence
Of Italie (though chast from thence)
Hath giuen vs (to cheere our hearts)
168
And now in the Ilirian maine,
Vulteius and his troopes are slaine.
And Curio, that was greatest part
Of Cæsars Senate in his Mart;
Lies foyl'd, with all his Martiall bands,
In Affrickes filthy parched sands.
Therefore your Ensignes now display,
Braue Captaines thrust on Fortunes way;
In Ioues high grace your hopes repose,
Your mindes as forward now expose,
Against the forces of your foes,
As you were ready then to run,
When their approches you did shun.
Our power no further doth extend,
For with the yeare the Consuls end.
But reuerend Lords your powerfull state
Is not confin'd to any date.
Therefore conclude amongst you all,
That Pompey be your General.
Hereat the Senate did reioyce,
And then decreed with one voyce,
That they would lay on Pompey's fate,
The publique and their priuate state.
That done, to honors they prefer'd
The Kings and people that deseru'd.
And vnto Rhodes, Apollo's seat,
(Whose power by sea was stout and great)
They presents gaue, and for their truth,
The like vnto the homely youth
Of Taygety; and then the Towne
Of ancient Athens they renowne.
And to Massilians (Cæsars spoyle)
They freely gaue the Phocean soyle.
Then Sadalen, and Cotyn strong,
And Deiotarus that had long
Beene loyall to the Roman state,
To honors they did eleuate:
And therewithall Rhasipolin,
The Lord of that coast whereas binne
The chilly sharpe windes fostered;
All these with praise were honored.
Then by the Senators decree,
Iuba designed was to bee
The soueraigne of all Libicke land,
To sway that scepter with his hand.
But oh dire Fates, thou that hast name
Of Ptolomey, thou Fortunes shame!
To thee a kingdome was design'd,
Whose people were of faithlesse kinde:
The Gods herein most faulty were,
To grace thy wretched head of haire
VVith that braue Alexandrian crowne,
That had from Peleus his renowne.
Thou boy didst take the sword in hand,
To rule the people of this land.
And would to God to them alone
Thy tyrant sword had beene made knowne;
But Lagus Realme was giuen thee more,
And thou defil'd with Pompey's gore,
Thy sisters Crowne thou didst depriue,
And Cæsars wracke wel-neere contriue.
This great assembly now dismist,
The multitude in Armes persist.
VVhilst Souldiers and the Captaines all,
Fore-casting nought what might befall,
Their Ensignes and their Armes aduance,
Guided by giddy Fortunes chance.
But Appius was the onely man
That did this purpose better scan:
For he did feare with rash attempt
To hazard doubtfull warres euent;
And therefore he the Gods besought
To shew to what end twould be brought.
VVhich done, he takes his iourney then
To the Phœbeian Delphicke Denne,
That he this Oracle might heare,
VVhich had beene shut vp many a yeare.
And Deiotarus that had long
Beene loyall to the Roman state,
To honors they did eleuate:
And therewithall Rhasipolin,
The Lord of that coast whereas binne
169
All these with praise were honored.
Then by the Senators decree,
Iuba designed was to bee
The soueraigne of all Libicke land,
To sway that scepter with his hand.
But oh dire Fates, thou that hast name
Of Ptolomey, thou Fortunes shame!
To thee a kingdome was design'd,
Whose people were of faithlesse kinde:
The Gods herein most faulty were,
To grace thy wretched head of haire
VVith that braue Alexandrian crowne,
That had from Peleus his renowne.
Thou boy didst take the sword in hand,
To rule the people of this land.
And would to God to them alone
Thy tyrant sword had beene made knowne;
But Lagus Realme was giuen thee more,
And thou defil'd with Pompey's gore,
Thy sisters Crowne thou didst depriue,
And Cæsars wracke wel-neere contriue.
This great assembly now dismist,
The multitude in Armes persist.
VVhilst Souldiers and the Captaines all,
Fore-casting nought what might befall,
Their Ensignes and their Armes aduance,
Guided by giddy Fortunes chance.
But Appius was the onely man
That did this purpose better scan:
For he did feare with rash attempt
To hazard doubtfull warres euent;
And therefore he the Gods besought
To shew to what end twould be brought.
VVhich done, he takes his iourney then
To the Phœbeian Delphicke Denne,
That he this Oracle might heare,
VVhich had beene shut vp many a yeare.
Parnassus mountaine toppe is spred
VVith lofty double forked head.
And in the worlds mid way doth rest,
Iust plac't betweene the East and West.
This sacred hill, as eld designes,
To Phœbus, and the God of wines
With equall hest was consecrate,
Where they their Oracles relate.
His onely toppe surmounting stood
Of all the earth aboue the flood,
That in Deucalions time did drowne
The world with her high towring crowne,
And onely as a confine seene
The waters and the skies betweene.
Yet thou Parnassus didst not rise
So high, but that one forkes poynt lyes
Vnder the water hid from eyes.
Reuenging Pæan there did show
The vigor of his arme and bow.
Calling to minde his mothers wrong,
Whilst he within her wombe did throng:
She from her natiue home expeld,
He with his arrowes Python queld,
Which yet he scarce had skill to weld.
This sacred soyle as then did rest
With Trypods vnder Thæmis hest.
As soone as Pæan first beheld
The sounding voyce these caues did yeeld,
Diuinely breathing out such sawes,
With windy words from earths deep iawes,
He secretly himselfe with-drawes,
And in the sacred dennes did shade,
There Pæan was a Prophet made.
VVith lofty double forked head.
170
Iust plac't betweene the East and West.
This sacred hill, as eld designes,
To Phœbus, and the God of wines
With equall hest was consecrate,
Where they their Oracles relate.
His onely toppe surmounting stood
Of all the earth aboue the flood,
That in Deucalions time did drowne
The world with her high towring crowne,
And onely as a confine seene
The waters and the skies betweene.
Yet thou Parnassus didst not rise
So high, but that one forkes poynt lyes
Vnder the water hid from eyes.
Reuenging Pæan there did show
The vigor of his arme and bow.
Calling to minde his mothers wrong,
Whilst he within her wombe did throng:
She from her natiue home expeld,
He with his arrowes Python queld,
Which yet he scarce had skill to weld.
This sacred soyle as then did rest
With Trypods vnder Thæmis hest.
As soone as Pæan first beheld
The sounding voyce these caues did yeeld,
Diuinely breathing out such sawes,
With windy words from earths deep iawes,
He secretly himselfe with-drawes,
And in the sacred dennes did shade,
There Pæan was a Prophet made.
What God (quoth he) is here inclosd?
What supreme power (from heauen deposd)
Vouchsafes confined thus to dwell
Within this solitary Cell?
What Deity of heauenly birth
Can be partaker with this earth?
Within whose all conceiuing breast,
Eternall secrets liue and rest.
Whose high fore-knowledge hath descride
What shall in future times betide.
That preacheth to the peoples eares,
That humane forme and nature beares.
Dreadfull and potent in his state,
And whether he doth sing of Fate,
Or do command that which he sings,
He Fate vnto perfection brings.
Perhaps of Iupiter entire,
A great part doth his soule inspire;
Which was vnto the earth downe sent
To sway this or by continent
With true proportion'd vpright paise,
Whereby amidst the Aire it staies.
Which power diuine, accustom'd then
To haunt in this Cyrrhæan Denne,
And was withall conioyned nye
To thundring Ioue aboue the skye.
This power that had such grace receiu'd,
Was in a virgins breast conceiu'd.
With humane soule it did subsist,
Sounding his voice when as him list:
The mouth he opened of the Priest,
With so great force as flaming blasts
That Mountaine Aetna's toppe out casts.
Or as Typhæus ouer-prest
With hugie weight vpon his breast,
(Whom great Inarymes doth hide)
Constrained (from his stomach wide)
To vomit vp, with ratling grones,
Campana's flinty rugged stones.
What supreme power (from heauen deposd)
Vouchsafes confined thus to dwell
Within this solitary Cell?
What Deity of heauenly birth
Can be partaker with this earth?
Within whose all conceiuing breast,
Eternall secrets liue and rest.
Whose high fore-knowledge hath descride
171
That preacheth to the peoples eares,
That humane forme and nature beares.
Dreadfull and potent in his state,
And whether he doth sing of Fate,
Or do command that which he sings,
He Fate vnto perfection brings.
Perhaps of Iupiter entire,
A great part doth his soule inspire;
Which was vnto the earth downe sent
To sway this or by continent
With true proportion'd vpright paise,
Whereby amidst the Aire it staies.
Which power diuine, accustom'd then
To haunt in this Cyrrhæan Denne,
And was withall conioyned nye
To thundring Ioue aboue the skye.
This power that had such grace receiu'd,
Was in a virgins breast conceiu'd.
With humane soule it did subsist,
Sounding his voice when as him list:
The mouth he opened of the Priest,
With so great force as flaming blasts
That Mountaine Aetna's toppe out casts.
Or as Typhæus ouer-prest
With hugie weight vpon his breast,
(Whom great Inarymes doth hide)
Constrained (from his stomach wide)
To vomit vp, with ratling grones,
Campana's flinty rugged stones.
This power exposd to all mens good
No mortals prayers hath withstood;
Onely his nature doth disdaine
To be defil'd with humane staine.
Wicked inchanters neuer dwels
Nor yet converse within his celles:
There witches mutter not their spelles.
A constant truth his speeches are,
To alter which none ought to dare.
Forbidding mortals that desire,
His fauour is the iust mans hire.
For vnto such (cast from their seat)
He hath restored Cities great.
The Tyrrians so he did relieue,
And gaue them meanes away to driue
The threatnings proud of hostile Lords,
As Salaminian sea records.
The barren lands he fruitfull makes,
Contagious aires away he takes,
And teacheth how the same he slakes.
This age of ours with griefe may say,
The Gods from vs hold not away
A blessed gift of greater grace,
Then was this Delphicke sacred place.
Which prophesing no longer sings,
So future feare doth hold our kings:
And in that iealous doubtfull vaine
All Oracles they doe restraine.
Yet Cyrræn Prophets nought lament,
That so their voyces are vp-pent,
Or that their Temples none frequent.
For if this God-heads spirit lights
Within the hearts of mortall wights,
They that this power diuine receaues,
Death vnto him thereby bequeaues
The full reward of present blisse,
Or else his paine eternall is.
For those weake powers of humane life
Faint in the waues and vrging strife,
That in this fury raigneth rife.
So can the Gods, when they doe streeke.
Shake mortall mindes, and make them meeke.
Now Appius that searcheth out
To vnderstand this latest doubt
Of the Hesperian hidden Fate;
Addrest himselfe vnto the gate
Of this same silent vncoth caue,
Whose Oracles no answeres gaue
Long time before; nor Trypods draue.
There he the Prelate doth intreat
Then to set ope his sacred seate,
And to let in the fearfull Nunne
Phæmonoë, that now did runne,
And gadde about in shady woods,
And by Castalio's secret floods,
Where wandring carelesse she was caught,
And so vnto the Temple brought.
No mortals prayers hath withstood;
Onely his nature doth disdaine
To be defil'd with humane staine.
Wicked inchanters neuer dwels
Nor yet converse within his celles:
There witches mutter not their spelles.
A constant truth his speeches are,
To alter which none ought to dare.
Forbidding mortals that desire,
172
For vnto such (cast from their seat)
He hath restored Cities great.
The Tyrrians so he did relieue,
And gaue them meanes away to driue
The threatnings proud of hostile Lords,
As Salaminian sea records.
The barren lands he fruitfull makes,
Contagious aires away he takes,
And teacheth how the same he slakes.
This age of ours with griefe may say,
The Gods from vs hold not away
A blessed gift of greater grace,
Then was this Delphicke sacred place.
Which prophesing no longer sings,
So future feare doth hold our kings:
And in that iealous doubtfull vaine
All Oracles they doe restraine.
Yet Cyrræn Prophets nought lament,
That so their voyces are vp-pent,
Or that their Temples none frequent.
For if this God-heads spirit lights
Within the hearts of mortall wights,
They that this power diuine receaues,
Death vnto him thereby bequeaues
The full reward of present blisse,
Or else his paine eternall is.
For those weake powers of humane life
Faint in the waues and vrging strife,
That in this fury raigneth rife.
So can the Gods, when they doe streeke.
Shake mortall mindes, and make them meeke.
Now Appius that searcheth out
To vnderstand this latest doubt
Of the Hesperian hidden Fate;
Addrest himselfe vnto the gate
Of this same silent vncoth caue,
Whose Oracles no answeres gaue
Long time before; nor Trypods draue.
There he the Prelate doth intreat
173
And to let in the fearfull Nunne
Phæmonoë, that now did runne,
And gadde about in shady woods,
And by Castalio's secret floods,
Where wandring carelesse she was caught,
And so vnto the Temple brought.
The Nunne whom feare did now disswade
This vgly entry to invade,
Vsd all the Art she could inuent
To hold this Lord from his intent,
Whereon his minde was so hot bent.
Great Roman Lord, I muse (quoth she)
What wicked hope inueagleth thee
To search to know thy future Fate,
Where Oracles are out of date.
Pernassus long hath silent stood,
The God suppressed hath his mood:
His voyce is either dumbe or hoarse,
Or else this seat he doth not force.
But rometh in by-waies vntry'd,
Or Pythons Trypod-couering hide,
Is by Barbarians burnt and fry'd:
Whose ashes in the Cauernes lies,
And Phœbus passage so denies.
Or whether that the Gods high hest
With Cyrrha's prophesies shall rest,
And that the Sibylls old presage
Of things to come in future age,
Which are committed vnto verse,
Sufficiently may Fates rehearse.
Or Pæan (that is vsd to chase
The spirits of a harmfull race)
Cannot finde out in this fraile time,
A truthfull tongue deuoid of crime.
Now in this virgins words and cheere,
Dissembling fraud did plaine appeare.
Her guilty feare did then descry
She falsely did the Gods deny.
Her writhed fillet she doth dresse
Vpon the fore-part of her tresse.
Her lockes hung downe her backe behinde:
Vpon her crowne she wreathing twinde
A garland greene of Laurell dight,
With Phocian vaile of lawne pure white;
But in the porch she made a stay:
The priest then pusht her on her way.
Yet she, poore soule, was sore adread
Into the horrid cell to yed:
Lothing the gastly dennes to proue,
Nor from the Porch would she remoue.
But there right doth a muttring faine,
As though the spright she did retaine,
And yet her breast he did not straine.
In this sort she vntroubled stood,
With quiet voyce, and sober mood;
Which shewd no sacred furies guise
Did her distracted sence surprise:
Neither could that smooth tale she told,
With Appius more credit hold,
Then it was able to abuse
The Trypods, or Apollos muse.
No trembling sounds doe stoppe her words,
The Cauerne vaste no voyce affoords:
Her garland doth not brandling reare,
With the vp-rising of her haire:
The Temples steeple no whit shakes,
The shady groue no blustring makes.
And she poore wretch the whilst still feares,
With Oracles to trust her eares.
This while the Trypods yeeld no signes,
And Appius vnto rage enclines:
Wherewith he said, thou false for-sworne,
That hast both Gods and Me in skorne;
Thy fraud thou deerely shalt abye,
Except thou enter presently
This cauerne, and do truths relate,
Presume not of thy selfe to prate
In matters of this great aduice,
No lesse worth then the worlds whole price.
Herewith the Nunne was so agast,
That to the Trypods she makes hast.
And to the Cauernes being come,
She stands amaz'd, and waxeth dumbe.
And with an vnaccustom'd breast,
The spirit she receiues her guest:
So as not any long of yore
This caue so fully did explore.
Then did the Cyrrhen Furie runne
So fiercely through this rapted Nunne,
That neuer any had like part
Of this diuine Phœbæan Art.
Her proper wits it driues away:
Now now (quoth she) heare whilst you may
And trust vpon the words I say.
Her necke she whirles, and windes about,
And madding through the dens doth strout.
Her phillets, and Phœbæan bayes,
Her vpright staring lockes did raise.
And through each horrid vacant place,
She flings about with gastly face:
And where the Trypods she doth meete,
She ouer-whelmes them with her feete.
She frets and burnes with inward fire,
Phœbus on her exprest his ire,
Not onely with his stripes and threats,
But he her bowels flaming heats,
And her inspires with so great skill,
That she was stinted of her will.
For 'twas not lawfull she should show
Those wondrous things that she did know.
All times beginnings, and their ends
She sees, and fully comprehends.
And euery ages destiny
Within her racked breast doth lye.
Huge heapes of things to her appeares,
She swels with gesse of future yeares,
Whose fates whilst she conceald doth hold,
In her did struggle to be told.
The worlds last dayes she viewed than,
With that first houre that it began.
The secrets of the Ocean vast,
Reuealed were to her forecast:
And therewithall she vnderstands
The iust account of all the sands.
This vgly entry to invade,
Vsd all the Art she could inuent
To hold this Lord from his intent,
Whereon his minde was so hot bent.
Great Roman Lord, I muse (quoth she)
What wicked hope inueagleth thee
To search to know thy future Fate,
Where Oracles are out of date.
Pernassus long hath silent stood,
The God suppressed hath his mood:
His voyce is either dumbe or hoarse,
Or else this seat he doth not force.
But rometh in by-waies vntry'd,
Or Pythons Trypod-couering hide,
Is by Barbarians burnt and fry'd:
Whose ashes in the Cauernes lies,
And Phœbus passage so denies.
Or whether that the Gods high hest
With Cyrrha's prophesies shall rest,
And that the Sibylls old presage
Of things to come in future age,
Which are committed vnto verse,
Sufficiently may Fates rehearse.
Or Pæan (that is vsd to chase
The spirits of a harmfull race)
Cannot finde out in this fraile time,
A truthfull tongue deuoid of crime.
Now in this virgins words and cheere,
Dissembling fraud did plaine appeare.
Her guilty feare did then descry
She falsely did the Gods deny.
Her writhed fillet she doth dresse
174
Her lockes hung downe her backe behinde:
Vpon her crowne she wreathing twinde
A garland greene of Laurell dight,
With Phocian vaile of lawne pure white;
But in the porch she made a stay:
The priest then pusht her on her way.
Yet she, poore soule, was sore adread
Into the horrid cell to yed:
Lothing the gastly dennes to proue,
Nor from the Porch would she remoue.
But there right doth a muttring faine,
As though the spright she did retaine,
And yet her breast he did not straine.
In this sort she vntroubled stood,
With quiet voyce, and sober mood;
Which shewd no sacred furies guise
Did her distracted sence surprise:
Neither could that smooth tale she told,
With Appius more credit hold,
Then it was able to abuse
The Trypods, or Apollos muse.
No trembling sounds doe stoppe her words,
The Cauerne vaste no voyce affoords:
Her garland doth not brandling reare,
With the vp-rising of her haire:
The Temples steeple no whit shakes,
The shady groue no blustring makes.
And she poore wretch the whilst still feares,
With Oracles to trust her eares.
This while the Trypods yeeld no signes,
And Appius vnto rage enclines:
Wherewith he said, thou false for-sworne,
That hast both Gods and Me in skorne;
Thy fraud thou deerely shalt abye,
Except thou enter presently
This cauerne, and do truths relate,
Presume not of thy selfe to prate
In matters of this great aduice,
No lesse worth then the worlds whole price.
175
That to the Trypods she makes hast.
And to the Cauernes being come,
She stands amaz'd, and waxeth dumbe.
And with an vnaccustom'd breast,
The spirit she receiues her guest:
So as not any long of yore
This caue so fully did explore.
Then did the Cyrrhen Furie runne
So fiercely through this rapted Nunne,
That neuer any had like part
Of this diuine Phœbæan Art.
Her proper wits it driues away:
Now now (quoth she) heare whilst you may
And trust vpon the words I say.
Her necke she whirles, and windes about,
And madding through the dens doth strout.
Her phillets, and Phœbæan bayes,
Her vpright staring lockes did raise.
And through each horrid vacant place,
She flings about with gastly face:
And where the Trypods she doth meete,
She ouer-whelmes them with her feete.
She frets and burnes with inward fire,
Phœbus on her exprest his ire,
Not onely with his stripes and threats,
But he her bowels flaming heats,
And her inspires with so great skill,
That she was stinted of her will.
For 'twas not lawfull she should show
Those wondrous things that she did know.
All times beginnings, and their ends
She sees, and fully comprehends.
And euery ages destiny
Within her racked breast doth lye.
Huge heapes of things to her appeares,
She swels with gesse of future yeares,
Whose fates whilst she conceald doth hold,
In her did struggle to be told.
The worlds last dayes she viewed than,
176
The secrets of the Ocean vast,
Reuealed were to her forecast:
And therewithall she vnderstands
The iust account of all the sands.
So great a Prophetesse some time
There liu'd in the Euboean Clime,
That did disdaine her secret Art,
With forraigne nations to impart.
And yet amongst so great a troope
That vnder fatall bonds did droope,
With haughty hand she fram'd her sprite
The Roman destinies to write.
Phœmonoë so with fury fild,
Labours the like content to yeeld
To thee (O Appius) that seek'st out
To be resolued of thy doubt.
But much a doe she hath, God wot,
To light vpon thy single lot,
Amongst so many destinies,
As in Castalia hidden lies.
With flowing foame her mouth grows white,
And raptures agonize her sprite:
She groanes, and therewith gasping throbs,
And yelling shrill she sighing sobs.
With heauy howling then she raues,
Which rings throughout the vaulted caues.
Then growing tame, her worke beginnes,
And thus her latest words she sings.
Thou Roman shalt the dangers great
Of these warres scape, that doe thee threat.
And in the vast Euboean soyle
Thou shalt rest safe, and free from toyle.
So said, she did conceale the rest,
And Pæan then her tongue supprest.
There liu'd in the Euboean Clime,
That did disdaine her secret Art,
With forraigne nations to impart.
And yet amongst so great a troope
That vnder fatall bonds did droope,
With haughty hand she fram'd her sprite
The Roman destinies to write.
Phœmonoë so with fury fild,
Labours the like content to yeeld
To thee (O Appius) that seek'st out
To be resolued of thy doubt.
But much a doe she hath, God wot,
To light vpon thy single lot,
Amongst so many destinies,
As in Castalia hidden lies.
With flowing foame her mouth grows white,
And raptures agonize her sprite:
She groanes, and therewith gasping throbs,
And yelling shrill she sighing sobs.
With heauy howling then she raues,
Which rings throughout the vaulted caues.
Then growing tame, her worke beginnes,
And thus her latest words she sings.
Thou Roman shalt the dangers great
Of these warres scape, that doe thee threat.
And in the vast Euboean soyle
Thou shalt rest safe, and free from toyle.
So said, she did conceale the rest,
And Pæan then her tongue supprest.
Yee Trypods that the Fates doe keepe,
And of the world the secrets deepe.
And thou (O Pæan) that wantst power
To hide the future of one hower
From knowledge of the Gods on hye,
Why strangely dost thou so deny
The latest ruine to relate
That shall oppresse the Empires state?
The Captaines slaine, the death of Kings,
The fall of Nations that it brings.
Whose liues the destinies thinke good,
To mingle with the Latium blood?
Haue not as yet the powers diuine
Resolu'd, how this wracke shall encline?
And are so many Fates obscur'd,
As though the starres were not assur'd
That Pompey's head is doom'd to dye,
Or else doe these things silent lye?
That Fortune may due vengeance take
Vpon that sword that makes all quake,
With chastisement his rage to slake.
And raise the Brutes, to quell the raigne
Of Tyrants that would rise againe.
Then with her breast the virgin push't
Against the gate, which open rush't.
Out of the Temple so she went,
But yet her fury was not spent:
Though not a word at all she spake,
For yet the God did not forsake
Her breast, but there his stay did make.
She still doth whirle her gogling eyes,
And wistly stares vpon the skies.
One while she shewes a fearfull grace,
And sometimes looke with scowling face.
A steady eye she neuer keepes,
Her lippes red flaming colour steepes.
Her cheekes were deadly pale to sight,
Not as when terror brings affright.
But bloodlesse wannish, and her heart
Did beat, as though her life did part.
But as the seas, when stormes doe slake,
Will swell, and hollow roaring make;
So with her many sighes out-sent,
She grew appeasd, her breast had vent.
And of the world the secrets deepe.
And thou (O Pæan) that wantst power
To hide the future of one hower
From knowledge of the Gods on hye,
177
The latest ruine to relate
That shall oppresse the Empires state?
The Captaines slaine, the death of Kings,
The fall of Nations that it brings.
Whose liues the destinies thinke good,
To mingle with the Latium blood?
Haue not as yet the powers diuine
Resolu'd, how this wracke shall encline?
And are so many Fates obscur'd,
As though the starres were not assur'd
That Pompey's head is doom'd to dye,
Or else doe these things silent lye?
That Fortune may due vengeance take
Vpon that sword that makes all quake,
With chastisement his rage to slake.
And raise the Brutes, to quell the raigne
Of Tyrants that would rise againe.
Then with her breast the virgin push't
Against the gate, which open rush't.
Out of the Temple so she went,
But yet her fury was not spent:
Though not a word at all she spake,
For yet the God did not forsake
Her breast, but there his stay did make.
She still doth whirle her gogling eyes,
And wistly stares vpon the skies.
One while she shewes a fearfull grace,
And sometimes looke with scowling face.
A steady eye she neuer keepes,
Her lippes red flaming colour steepes.
Her cheekes were deadly pale to sight,
Not as when terror brings affright.
But bloodlesse wannish, and her heart
Did beat, as though her life did part.
But as the seas, when stormes doe slake,
Will swell, and hollow roaring make;
So with her many sighes out-sent,
She grew appeasd, her breast had vent.
And when she seuerd had her sight,
A while from out the sacred light,
Which had reueal'd to her all Fate,
She was restor'd to her old state.
Her humane notions came againe,
And Pæan did her bowels baine
With water of the Lethe flood,
All was forgot she vnderstood.
The secrets of the Gods were fled,
And she no longer prophised.
All future fore-cast that inspire,
To Phœbus Trypods did retire.
Downe-right she fell into a trance;
But Appius though thy death aduance,
Thou dost not yet a right conceaue
What doubtfull fate to thee doth cleaue;
For thou deluded with false hope,
The whole worlds rule tak'st for thy scope:
And with an idle misconceit,
Dost thinke to make thy safe retrait
In Calcis and Euboian land,
And fondly bearst thy selfe in hand
(O foole!) with that which cannot be:
For how canst thou from cares be free,
Amidst this whole worlds storme of strife,
Except the Gods bereaue thy life?
And that is true; for thou shalt haue
Prepar'd for thee a worthy graue,
Neere to the strict Euboian costs,
Whereas huge rockes of marble posts,
Charistos hath such quarries store,
And whereas Rhamnis doth adore
Great Nemesis, that there doth keepe
Neere to the straits of that vaste deepe
Euripus cal'd, whose rapid course
With checking tides, and changing sourse:
The Calcidonian trading masts
On Aulis wracking channels casts.
178
Which had reueal'd to her all Fate,
She was restor'd to her old state.
Her humane notions came againe,
And Pæan did her bowels baine
With water of the Lethe flood,
All was forgot she vnderstood.
The secrets of the Gods were fled,
And she no longer prophised.
All future fore-cast that inspire,
To Phœbus Trypods did retire.
Downe-right she fell into a trance;
But Appius though thy death aduance,
Thou dost not yet a right conceaue
What doubtfull fate to thee doth cleaue;
For thou deluded with false hope,
The whole worlds rule tak'st for thy scope:
And with an idle misconceit,
Dost thinke to make thy safe retrait
In Calcis and Euboian land,
And fondly bearst thy selfe in hand
(O foole!) with that which cannot be:
For how canst thou from cares be free,
Amidst this whole worlds storme of strife,
Except the Gods bereaue thy life?
And that is true; for thou shalt haue
Prepar'd for thee a worthy graue,
Neere to the strict Euboian costs,
Whereas huge rockes of marble posts,
Charistos hath such quarries store,
And whereas Rhamnis doth adore
Great Nemesis, that there doth keepe
Neere to the straits of that vaste deepe
Euripus cal'd, whose rapid course
With checking tides, and changing sourse:
The Calcidonian trading masts
On Aulis wracking channels casts.
Cæsar meane while remoues his hoast
From the Iberian conquered coast,
And his victorious Ægles flye
Vnto another stranger skye.
And then the Gods had wel-neere quel'd
That good successe which long he held.
For now whilst he no warre did wage,
He stands in doubt that mutines rage
Within his Campe would raise some broyle,
And so his plotted warfare spoyle.
Whilst that his chiefest troopes now fild
With blood, in many battailes spild:
Their faith did from their Captaine fall,
And were it that the Trumpets call
Had not of late stir'd vp their sprights,
Or that from their accustom'd fights
Their swords to scabbards now confin'd,
All martiall rage chast from their minde.
Or whether that the swaggering sway
Was to procure some larger pay.
But so it was amidst these flawes,
They curse their Captaine, and the cause;
And do accuse their proper Armes
As guilty of these ciuill harmes.
Neuer was Cæsar better try'd,
Then now this mutiny to guide.
He sees all in a staggering way,
Vncertaine how mens mindes would sway:
And like a body reft of hands,
As vnassisted now he stands:
And almost left to his owne sword,
Saw now what twas that did affoord
Him meanes such warres to entertaine,
'Gainst all the world by land and maine;
That 'twas the Souldiers ready armes,
And not the Captaines fatall charmes.
But now amazed murmure rose,
Their rage they openly oppose:
For that same cause that is of wont,
Of wauering mindes to stay the brunt,
Is when that men their priuate feare,
And his owne dread each one doth beare.
But now them all one humor drawes,
The Campe takes interest in the cause,
As tyranny against their lawes.
They make no stoppe, for all the rout
Dreadlesse run on, and cast no doubt.
For still a generall offence
Doth with all chastisement dispence.
From the Iberian conquered coast,
And his victorious Ægles flye
179
And then the Gods had wel-neere quel'd
That good successe which long he held.
For now whilst he no warre did wage,
He stands in doubt that mutines rage
Within his Campe would raise some broyle,
And so his plotted warfare spoyle.
Whilst that his chiefest troopes now fild
With blood, in many battailes spild:
Their faith did from their Captaine fall,
And were it that the Trumpets call
Had not of late stir'd vp their sprights,
Or that from their accustom'd fights
Their swords to scabbards now confin'd,
All martiall rage chast from their minde.
Or whether that the swaggering sway
Was to procure some larger pay.
But so it was amidst these flawes,
They curse their Captaine, and the cause;
And do accuse their proper Armes
As guilty of these ciuill harmes.
Neuer was Cæsar better try'd,
Then now this mutiny to guide.
He sees all in a staggering way,
Vncertaine how mens mindes would sway:
And like a body reft of hands,
As vnassisted now he stands:
And almost left to his owne sword,
Saw now what twas that did affoord
Him meanes such warres to entertaine,
'Gainst all the world by land and maine;
That 'twas the Souldiers ready armes,
And not the Captaines fatall charmes.
But now amazed murmure rose,
Their rage they openly oppose:
For that same cause that is of wont,
Of wauering mindes to stay the brunt,
Is when that men their priuate feare,
And his owne dread each one doth beare.
But now them all one humor drawes,
180
As tyranny against their lawes.
They make no stoppe, for all the rout
Dreadlesse run on, and cast no doubt.
For still a generall offence
Doth with all chastisement dispence.
Then one of them amongst the rest,
Their publicke griese this wise exprest.
Cæsar let vs at length in peace
From wicked warre finde some release.
By lands and seas thou dost deuise,
To make our throats a sacrifice.
And dost (as vile) expose our blood,
To euery hostile raging mood.
A part of vs in France were slaine,
Many in these hard warres of Spaine;
And Latium, some with blood did staine.
So all the world our Troopes deuoures,
Whilst thou displai'st thy conquering powres.
But what are we the more of worth,
For all that bloud shed in the North?
For Rhodanus, and Rhene subdu'd,
Our labours are but still renu'd.
And for those warres both neere and farre
All our reward is ciuill warre.
Rome we haue taken, and made waste:
The Senate from our Countrey chaste.
What spoyles of Gods or men remaines,
For vs to aske more for our paines?
Yet still with rauening swords and hands
Prest to all spoyle our practise stands.
Patient in pouerty we pine,
O when will these warres haue a fine?
If Rome too little be esteem'd,
What as sufficient can be deem'd?
O now respect our hoary haire,
Our hands that scarce can weapons beare,
Our weakned arms with wounds and scarres,
Our liues decayd, youth spent in warres.
Their death in peace let old men take,
O 'tis a strange request I make,
That dying we might not of force,
Vpon the bare earth life deuorce;
And with our cold caskes crush our powles,
Whilst we are yeelding vp our soules:
And want a hand to close our eyes
When deaths last straine doth vs surprise.
No wife at all by vs to moane,
Nor yet to haue a graue alone,
But vpon heapes in ditches cast,
Let old age beded dye at last.
And some thing get by Cæsars fate
More then sharpe swords, and dire debate.
Why dost thou (Cæsar) hope to draw
Vs all as stupid vnder awe.
As though we wanted sence the while
To iudge of employments vile?
Thinkst thou, we cannot gesse aright
Vpon whom all the wracke will light?
And whose liues blood shall pay the price
Of all thy ciuill warres deuise.
What in thy Mart effected was,
But that our hands hath brought to passe?
We haue done all, and what I say
No law nor right can me denay.
Cæsar my Chiefetaine was in Gaule,
My fellow here I may him call.
The crime that doth coinquinate,
Doth likewise yeeld men equall fate.
Besides the merit of our acts,
Wrong censure now from vs detracts.
For whatsoeuer we haue wonne,
Is deem'd by Cæsars fortune spunne.
Yet let him know we are his Fate,
Though he hope Ioue supports his state,
For if thy Souldiers with thee iarre,
Cæsar thou may'st shut vp thy warre.
Thus said, in all the Campe throughout
Together they doe clustring rout,
And raging seeke their Captaine out.
Their publicke griese this wise exprest.
Cæsar let vs at length in peace
From wicked warre finde some release.
By lands and seas thou dost deuise,
To make our throats a sacrifice.
And dost (as vile) expose our blood,
To euery hostile raging mood.
A part of vs in France were slaine,
Many in these hard warres of Spaine;
And Latium, some with blood did staine.
So all the world our Troopes deuoures,
Whilst thou displai'st thy conquering powres.
But what are we the more of worth,
For all that bloud shed in the North?
For Rhodanus, and Rhene subdu'd,
Our labours are but still renu'd.
And for those warres both neere and farre
All our reward is ciuill warre.
Rome we haue taken, and made waste:
The Senate from our Countrey chaste.
What spoyles of Gods or men remaines,
For vs to aske more for our paines?
Yet still with rauening swords and hands
Prest to all spoyle our practise stands.
Patient in pouerty we pine,
O when will these warres haue a fine?
If Rome too little be esteem'd,
What as sufficient can be deem'd?
O now respect our hoary haire,
Our hands that scarce can weapons beare,
Our weakned arms with wounds and scarres,
Our liues decayd, youth spent in warres.
Their death in peace let old men take,
181
That dying we might not of force,
Vpon the bare earth life deuorce;
And with our cold caskes crush our powles,
Whilst we are yeelding vp our soules:
And want a hand to close our eyes
When deaths last straine doth vs surprise.
No wife at all by vs to moane,
Nor yet to haue a graue alone,
But vpon heapes in ditches cast,
Let old age beded dye at last.
And some thing get by Cæsars fate
More then sharpe swords, and dire debate.
Why dost thou (Cæsar) hope to draw
Vs all as stupid vnder awe.
As though we wanted sence the while
To iudge of employments vile?
Thinkst thou, we cannot gesse aright
Vpon whom all the wracke will light?
And whose liues blood shall pay the price
Of all thy ciuill warres deuise.
What in thy Mart effected was,
But that our hands hath brought to passe?
We haue done all, and what I say
No law nor right can me denay.
Cæsar my Chiefetaine was in Gaule,
My fellow here I may him call.
The crime that doth coinquinate,
Doth likewise yeeld men equall fate.
Besides the merit of our acts,
Wrong censure now from vs detracts.
For whatsoeuer we haue wonne,
Is deem'd by Cæsars fortune spunne.
Yet let him know we are his Fate,
Though he hope Ioue supports his state,
For if thy Souldiers with thee iarre,
Cæsar thou may'st shut vp thy warre.
Thus said, in all the Campe throughout
Together they doe clustring rout,
And raging seeke their Captaine out.
182
Yee Gods so did Romes forttune quaile,
When piety and faith did faile,
And wicked manners void of grace,
In steed thereof did come in place.
O let our discords raging iarres
Once make an end of ciuill warres!
What Captaine of the greatest spright
Would not this mutiny affright?
But noble Cæsar (that dares runne
Into all Fates, and nothing shunne,
Delighting then to try his chance,
When dangerss most their threats aduance)
Comes dauntlesse now with courage bold,
Not staying till their fit was cold.
But in the midst of all their rage,
Himselfe amongst them doth ingage.
He neuer would haue blam'd their fact
If they had Townes or Cities sack't;
Or had they reuerend Temples burn'd,
Or Ioues Tarpeia ouer-turn'd.
The Matrons, and the Senate spoil'd,
Infants, and mothers great with child.
For Cæsar would his Souldiers haue
All cruelties of him to craue;
And that they surely should desire
The spoyle of warfare as their hire.
He onely fear'd his furious troope
With quiet hands would loytring droope.
O Cæsar! art thou not asham'd,
That still to warre thy minde is fram'd?
When thine owne Armes doe thee forsake,
Shall these their thirst from bloud so slake?
Shall they the murdring steele disdaine,
Whilst thou dost ruthlesse still remaine,
And prosecute this impious vaine?
Be weary, and learne without Armes,
To suffer, and shunne ciuill harmes.
Affect a life of peace at last,
These heynous humors from thee cast.
Cruell why dost thou still persist,
Prouoking men against their list?
For Cæsar thou maist plainly see,
This ciuill warre thy sword doth flee.
He stands vpon a little hill,
His stout lookes he retaineth still.
Deseruing to be fear'd of all,
For that no feare could him appall.
Then to this swarme his minde he breakes,
And wroth doth dictate what he speakes.
When piety and faith did faile,
And wicked manners void of grace,
In steed thereof did come in place.
O let our discords raging iarres
Once make an end of ciuill warres!
What Captaine of the greatest spright
Would not this mutiny affright?
But noble Cæsar (that dares runne
Into all Fates, and nothing shunne,
Delighting then to try his chance,
When dangerss most their threats aduance)
Comes dauntlesse now with courage bold,
Not staying till their fit was cold.
But in the midst of all their rage,
Himselfe amongst them doth ingage.
He neuer would haue blam'd their fact
If they had Townes or Cities sack't;
Or had they reuerend Temples burn'd,
Or Ioues Tarpeia ouer-turn'd.
The Matrons, and the Senate spoil'd,
Infants, and mothers great with child.
For Cæsar would his Souldiers haue
All cruelties of him to craue;
And that they surely should desire
The spoyle of warfare as their hire.
He onely fear'd his furious troope
With quiet hands would loytring droope.
O Cæsar! art thou not asham'd,
That still to warre thy minde is fram'd?
When thine owne Armes doe thee forsake,
Shall these their thirst from bloud so slake?
Shall they the murdring steele disdaine,
Whilst thou dost ruthlesse still remaine,
And prosecute this impious vaine?
Be weary, and learne without Armes,
To suffer, and shunne ciuill harmes.
Affect a life of peace at last,
These heynous humors from thee cast.
Cruell why dost thou still persist,
183
For Cæsar thou maist plainly see,
This ciuill warre thy sword doth flee.
He stands vpon a little hill,
His stout lookes he retaineth still.
Deseruing to be fear'd of all,
For that no feare could him appall.
Then to this swarme his minde he breakes,
And wroth doth dictate what he speakes.
Souldier that so took'st on yer-while,
And absent didst my name reuile;
See heere thou hast a naked breast
Ready for wounds, now do thy best,
And get thee hence if fault thou finde
With warres, and leaue thy Armes behinde.
Sedition that such swaggering makes,
And nothing manly vndertakes,
Discouers but a coward minde,
And such as come of crauen kinde.
These youths so pamper'd vp with pray,
Study but now to runne away;
To sloth they would themselues bequeaue,
And their victorious Captaine leaue.
Be gonne, (such abiect mindes I hate)
Leaue me to warre, and to my fate.
These armes of mine will finde out hands,
VVhen I haue casht seditious bands.
Fortune with gallants will supply
My weapons, that vn-vsd shall lye.
Can Pompey, whom I chast away,
Be follow'd with so great a sway
Of Latium ships, with him to flye?
And thinke you that my victory
VVill not my campe with troopes supplie?
Yes, and those troopes we must prefarre
To haue the honor of this warre:
And they will share away the gaines
Of all your former-taken paines.
Then shall you Veterans relent,
To see your blood in vaine so spent.
And when my Triumphes come in place,
Your selues haue nether gifts nor grace.
Thinke you that I shall losse receaue,
Because that you my Campe doe leaue?
Yea all as much, as if the course
Of riuers, threat to change their sourse,
And from the seas their streames detaine,
Were able so to slake the maine,
That ebs & floods 'twould not maintaine.
What do you now your selues perswade
That you in ought my fortune made?
The Gods do not their care abase
To men of your inferior place.
They giue no leasure to their eye,
To see where such men liue or dye.
Of great mens Fate they haue a care,
That of this world supporters are.
To Spaine, and to the Northerne coast,
You terrors were, led in my hoast.
But had you followed Pompey then,
You would haue prou'd but conquer'd men.
Labienus was a valiant knight,
Whilst he in Cæsars Armes did fight.
But now (a run-a-way most base)
Doth after a new Captaine trace,
By sea and land from place to place.
Your faiths to me no better are,
If you shall shew your selues in warre,
Of so debaushed minds to be,
As neither foes nor friends to me.
For he that doth my Ensignes leaue,
And will not vnto Pompey cleaue,
Of me no fauour can receaue.
Surely the Gods my Tents protect,
And will I should your fraud reiect.
And that I doe vnto mee call
New troopes to wage this warre withall.
O Fortune! how dost thou enlarge
My weary shoulders of a charge?
To giue me meanes now to despise
Those hands, whose hopes nought can suffise;
No not the whole worlds spoyle and pelfe,
But I will warre now for my selfe:
Therefore from out my Campe depart,
And those braue Ensignes of my Mart,
Yee slothfull Romans lay them downe,
They shall be borne with more renowne.
And now the Authors of this rage,
Iustice, not Cæsar, doth engage.
Prostrate your selues therefore with speed,
And on the blocke receiue your meed:
For of this mutinous deuice,
Your faithlesse heads must pay the price.
And you new Souldiers, on whose hands
The strength now of my Army stands;
Behold these paines, learne lawes of Armes,
Know how to dye for factious harmes.
The common rout whilst thus he spake,
Vnder his threatning voyce did quake.
And this great bragging factious troope,
That might haue made one head to droop,
Vnto his will with awe did stoope,
As though the very swords conspir'd
To yeeld to what his will requir'd:
And that the steele it selfe in spight
Of hands, would yeeld him duties right.
Yet Cæsars selfe did stand in doubt,
That most of all the armed rout
Would haue maintain'd their cause in field,
And not to execution yeeld.
But yet their patience past the scope
Of their offended Captaines hope:
For they not onely held them still,
But gaue their throats vnto his will.
Then did he feare that their sterne hearts
Inur'd before to ruthlesse parts,
Would now grow dull, vnfit for Marts.
Loe thus did Iustice direfull stroke
To former peace their mindes reuoke.
Chiefe Mutiners receiu'd their paine,
The rest restor'd to grace againe.
And absent didst my name reuile;
See heere thou hast a naked breast
Ready for wounds, now do thy best,
And get thee hence if fault thou finde
With warres, and leaue thy Armes behinde.
Sedition that such swaggering makes,
And nothing manly vndertakes,
Discouers but a coward minde,
And such as come of crauen kinde.
These youths so pamper'd vp with pray,
Study but now to runne away;
To sloth they would themselues bequeaue,
And their victorious Captaine leaue.
Be gonne, (such abiect mindes I hate)
Leaue me to warre, and to my fate.
These armes of mine will finde out hands,
VVhen I haue casht seditious bands.
Fortune with gallants will supply
My weapons, that vn-vsd shall lye.
Can Pompey, whom I chast away,
Be follow'd with so great a sway
Of Latium ships, with him to flye?
And thinke you that my victory
VVill not my campe with troopes supplie?
Yes, and those troopes we must prefarre
To haue the honor of this warre:
And they will share away the gaines
Of all your former-taken paines.
Then shall you Veterans relent,
To see your blood in vaine so spent.
184
Your selues haue nether gifts nor grace.
Thinke you that I shall losse receaue,
Because that you my Campe doe leaue?
Yea all as much, as if the course
Of riuers, threat to change their sourse,
And from the seas their streames detaine,
Were able so to slake the maine,
That ebs & floods 'twould not maintaine.
What do you now your selues perswade
That you in ought my fortune made?
The Gods do not their care abase
To men of your inferior place.
They giue no leasure to their eye,
To see where such men liue or dye.
Of great mens Fate they haue a care,
That of this world supporters are.
To Spaine, and to the Northerne coast,
You terrors were, led in my hoast.
But had you followed Pompey then,
You would haue prou'd but conquer'd men.
Labienus was a valiant knight,
Whilst he in Cæsars Armes did fight.
But now (a run-a-way most base)
Doth after a new Captaine trace,
By sea and land from place to place.
Your faiths to me no better are,
If you shall shew your selues in warre,
Of so debaushed minds to be,
As neither foes nor friends to me.
For he that doth my Ensignes leaue,
And will not vnto Pompey cleaue,
Of me no fauour can receaue.
Surely the Gods my Tents protect,
And will I should your fraud reiect.
And that I doe vnto mee call
New troopes to wage this warre withall.
O Fortune! how dost thou enlarge
My weary shoulders of a charge?
To giue me meanes now to despise
185
No not the whole worlds spoyle and pelfe,
But I will warre now for my selfe:
Therefore from out my Campe depart,
And those braue Ensignes of my Mart,
Yee slothfull Romans lay them downe,
They shall be borne with more renowne.
And now the Authors of this rage,
Iustice, not Cæsar, doth engage.
Prostrate your selues therefore with speed,
And on the blocke receiue your meed:
For of this mutinous deuice,
Your faithlesse heads must pay the price.
And you new Souldiers, on whose hands
The strength now of my Army stands;
Behold these paines, learne lawes of Armes,
Know how to dye for factious harmes.
The common rout whilst thus he spake,
Vnder his threatning voyce did quake.
And this great bragging factious troope,
That might haue made one head to droop,
Vnto his will with awe did stoope,
As though the very swords conspir'd
To yeeld to what his will requir'd:
And that the steele it selfe in spight
Of hands, would yeeld him duties right.
Yet Cæsars selfe did stand in doubt,
That most of all the armed rout
Would haue maintain'd their cause in field,
And not to execution yeeld.
But yet their patience past the scope
Of their offended Captaines hope:
For they not onely held them still,
But gaue their throats vnto his will.
Then did he feare that their sterne hearts
Inur'd before to ruthlesse parts,
Would now grow dull, vnfit for Marts.
Loe thus did Iustice direfull stroke
To former peace their mindes reuoke.
Chiefe Mutiners receiu'd their paine,
186
The Army then directed was,
Thence to Brundusium to passe
In ten daies march, and there to meet
The Mariners, and Cæsars fleet.
Some of them cal'd from Hydrus bay,
And from old Taras, where they lay:
Others from Leucas secret shores,
And those in Salapin, that Moores,
With some that did in Sipus ride,
Whose streams neere to those cliffes do tide
Where the Apulian Gargan hill
Fruitfull to husband men that till,
Stretching along Ausonia's soyles,
By North Dalmatia entoyles.
And on the South Calabria bounds,
Thence like a Promontory rounds
Into the Adriaticke sounds.
Meane while doth Cæsar take his way
To fearefull Rome, taught to obay.
In peacefull gowne, the victors minde;
His armed troopes he left behind:
And there the people by request,
In signe of loue, would needs inuest
Him with the high Dictators name,
And Consulship ioyn'd to the same.
Obseru'd with ioyfull solemne feasts,
And suffrages to his owne hests
So generally, as that before,
Neuer was any flattered more,
With Lordly phrase him to adore.
And for to grace with iust pretence
His warre, as for the states defence;
The swords that they before him beare,
With Consuls axes mingled were.
And where the Ægles Ensignes waue,
He ioynes the Faggots ribbond braue.
And so vsurpes, with idle fame
Of Empires rule, Dictators name.
Thus markes he out that wofull time
With worthy Titles free from crime.
And so to giue Pharsalia's fight
The colour of a quarrell right.
That yeare the Consuls name he hends,
And publique good his cause pretends.
To solemne shewes in Martius fields,
A forced fained forme he yeelds;
The peoples voyces he obtaines,
For will, or nill, powre them constraines.
The Tribes he partially diuides,
With shew the Vrne the lots decides.
The heauenly signes no credit beares,
Thunders moues not the Augures eares.
They sweare the birds with good lucke flye,
Whilst dismall Owles are heard to crye.
So breach of lawes that high powre stain'd,
Which reuerence had so long maintein'd.
And that times names mightfull agree
With his designes, he doth decree
A monthly Consull to install,
Distinguish't with times festiuall.
And that high powre that Latium brights,
Should haue his Ceremoniall rites
Perform'd by Torches in the nights,
Though sacred honours scarce were due
To Ioue, that nought our wrackes did rue.
Thence to Brundusium to passe
In ten daies march, and there to meet
The Mariners, and Cæsars fleet.
Some of them cal'd from Hydrus bay,
And from old Taras, where they lay:
Others from Leucas secret shores,
And those in Salapin, that Moores,
With some that did in Sipus ride,
Whose streams neere to those cliffes do tide
Where the Apulian Gargan hill
Fruitfull to husband men that till,
Stretching along Ausonia's soyles,
By North Dalmatia entoyles.
And on the South Calabria bounds,
Thence like a Promontory rounds
Into the Adriaticke sounds.
Meane while doth Cæsar take his way
To fearefull Rome, taught to obay.
In peacefull gowne, the victors minde;
His armed troopes he left behind:
And there the people by request,
In signe of loue, would needs inuest
Him with the high Dictators name,
And Consulship ioyn'd to the same.
Obseru'd with ioyfull solemne feasts,
And suffrages to his owne hests
So generally, as that before,
Neuer was any flattered more,
With Lordly phrase him to adore.
And for to grace with iust pretence
His warre, as for the states defence;
The swords that they before him beare,
With Consuls axes mingled were.
And where the Ægles Ensignes waue,
He ioynes the Faggots ribbond braue.
And so vsurpes, with idle fame
Of Empires rule, Dictators name.
Thus markes he out that wofull time
187
And so to giue Pharsalia's fight
The colour of a quarrell right.
That yeare the Consuls name he hends,
And publique good his cause pretends.
To solemne shewes in Martius fields,
A forced fained forme he yeelds;
The peoples voyces he obtaines,
For will, or nill, powre them constraines.
The Tribes he partially diuides,
With shew the Vrne the lots decides.
The heauenly signes no credit beares,
Thunders moues not the Augures eares.
They sweare the birds with good lucke flye,
Whilst dismall Owles are heard to crye.
So breach of lawes that high powre stain'd,
Which reuerence had so long maintein'd.
And that times names mightfull agree
With his designes, he doth decree
A monthly Consull to install,
Distinguish't with times festiuall.
And that high powre that Latium brights,
Should haue his Ceremoniall rites
Perform'd by Torches in the nights,
Though sacred honours scarce were due
To Ioue, that nought our wrackes did rue.
From Rome then Cæsar hastes away,
Through those low meads that yeelds the hay
That the Apulian people makes
With handy pitchforkes, and with rakes.
And in his speed he is more swift
Then is the flash of lightnings drift,
Or Tyger of the female kinde,
Vntill the houses he doe finde
Of Crætan frames, Brundusium hight,
Where with the aires tempestuous spight
He findes the hauens mouth winde-bound,
And trembling barkes within the sound,
With winters stormes like to be drownd.
But yet this daring Captaine thinkes
That shamefully his businesse shrinkes,
If doubts, or dreads should him delay,
Or him confine within a bay.
Whilst that he sees the tossing maine
Is scour'd by Pompey's lucklesse traine,
And to adde courage to their sprites,
His mariners he thus incites.
The Northerne sky, and winters winde
We alwayes doe more certaine finde;
And current of the Ocean vast,
Continue with more constant blast,
When once they take, then those slight puffes
Which from the chopping changing huffes
Of the spring season do proceede,
Either for certainty or speede.
Besides, our course needs not to feare
How sore the seas do breake and teare:
We need not gaze for markes of lands,
Whereby to void the rockes and sands.
But with a forth-right leading winde,
By North we shall our harbour finde.
And would to God this Northerne racke,
Would whirle to make the mast to cracke,
And fill the sailes with such a gale,
To make the top-mast stoope withall;
And bring vs to the Greekish shores,
That Pompey's Gallies, with their Oares,
May not in calmes our fleet surprise,
Whilst in the seas it hulling tries.
Therefore my hearts your Anchors way,
Doe not our happy fleet delay:
For all this while we loose but time,
Since windes and seas are in their prime.
Through those low meads that yeelds the hay
That the Apulian people makes
With handy pitchforkes, and with rakes.
And in his speed he is more swift
Then is the flash of lightnings drift,
Or Tyger of the female kinde,
Vntill the houses he doe finde
Of Crætan frames, Brundusium hight,
Where with the aires tempestuous spight
He findes the hauens mouth winde-bound,
And trembling barkes within the sound,
With winters stormes like to be drownd.
But yet this daring Captaine thinkes
188
If doubts, or dreads should him delay,
Or him confine within a bay.
Whilst that he sees the tossing maine
Is scour'd by Pompey's lucklesse traine,
And to adde courage to their sprites,
His mariners he thus incites.
The Northerne sky, and winters winde
We alwayes doe more certaine finde;
And current of the Ocean vast,
Continue with more constant blast,
When once they take, then those slight puffes
Which from the chopping changing huffes
Of the spring season do proceede,
Either for certainty or speede.
Besides, our course needs not to feare
How sore the seas do breake and teare:
We need not gaze for markes of lands,
Whereby to void the rockes and sands.
But with a forth-right leading winde,
By North we shall our harbour finde.
And would to God this Northerne racke,
Would whirle to make the mast to cracke,
And fill the sailes with such a gale,
To make the top-mast stoope withall;
And bring vs to the Greekish shores,
That Pompey's Gallies, with their Oares,
May not in calmes our fleet surprise,
Whilst in the seas it hulling tries.
Therefore my hearts your Anchors way,
Doe not our happy fleet delay:
For all this while we loose but time,
Since windes and seas are in their prime.
Now Phœbus falles vnto his rest,
And brightest starres the skies invest;
When Cinthia shewes her siluer eye,
The ships out of the harbour flye.
With Anchors weigh'd, and Cables coyl'd,
Amongst the waues the Sea-men toyl'd.
They hoise their yards a crosse the mast,
And then to take the friendly blast,
Their climing feet their hands pursue
To cut their sailes, and spreade their clue.
But for the winde they gan to doubt,
Their top-sailes likewise they heaue out,
With all their helpes they can deuise,
To take the least breath of the skies.
Yet now more slowly slides the racke,
And all their sailes began to slacke;
Wherewith came on such slender blasts,
That sailes did flat vnto the masts.
Of land no sooner they lost sight,
But they were all becalm'd out-right.
The gale that blew off from the shore,
At sea did follow them no more.
The rowling billowes of the deepe
Were now growne calme, and still a sleepe.
The waues all smooth, were as but one,
The maine scarce felt a motion.
So Bosphorus doth dully stand,
Bound with the flawes of Schythia land.
When Istar cannot moue that maine
Which freezing vapours doe restraine,
That sea becomes an ycie plaine:
And ships brought thither by the windes,
In beddes of yce fast lockt it bindes.
So as the men by toyle, nor Art,
Can make a way thence to depart.
Whose waues condensed with the cold
The hugie weight of Carts do hold.
With hollow sound that thereon runne,
And there the Besseans doe wonne,
Vntill Meotis feele the Sunne.
With such a froward still, the deepes
A soft and sluggish wallowing keepes;
As if in slumber they did rest,
And of their nature dispossest.
And like a standing poole growne sad,
That neither spring nor motion had;
But changed from his nature quite,
Forgotten had his wonted plight.
For he will neither rise nor fall,
Nor with his wonted roaring call;
He trembles not, nor frothing chides,
Nor Phœbæs influence giues him tides.
This fleet meane while with much disease,
Lay tumbling in this dead growne seas.
On this side did the aduerse fleet
Prepare their oares with them to meet,
Whilst they in this dead calme do ride,
And could not moue with winde or tide.
On th' other side they stood in dread,
And danger to be famished.
So as in this disasterous state
New feares, new praiers eleuate.
Vpon the Gods they call and cry,
That all the fury of the sky
Would bend it selfe to boysterous rage,
And so the stupid waues engage,
As that the fury of the maine
Would shew it selfe a sea againe.
But winde nor waues became so stout,
That they of ship-wracke need to doubt.
Yet after when the night was past,
The day with clouds was ouer-cast.
The hollow seas began to sturre,
And then Ceraunia windes did whurre,
Wherewith the fleet began to quake,
And so the aire the sailes did shake,
At length the crooke-back't waues did rise,
And in the sternes the ships surprise,
That with full sailes now forward plies.
So as these friendly seas and gales,
Them to Palestes hauens hales:
Where when they safely were arriu'd,
They Anchors cast, with ioy reviu'd.
And brightest starres the skies invest;
When Cinthia shewes her siluer eye,
The ships out of the harbour flye.
With Anchors weigh'd, and Cables coyl'd,
Amongst the waues the Sea-men toyl'd.
They hoise their yards a crosse the mast,
189
Their climing feet their hands pursue
To cut their sailes, and spreade their clue.
But for the winde they gan to doubt,
Their top-sailes likewise they heaue out,
With all their helpes they can deuise,
To take the least breath of the skies.
Yet now more slowly slides the racke,
And all their sailes began to slacke;
Wherewith came on such slender blasts,
That sailes did flat vnto the masts.
Of land no sooner they lost sight,
But they were all becalm'd out-right.
The gale that blew off from the shore,
At sea did follow them no more.
The rowling billowes of the deepe
Were now growne calme, and still a sleepe.
The waues all smooth, were as but one,
The maine scarce felt a motion.
So Bosphorus doth dully stand,
Bound with the flawes of Schythia land.
When Istar cannot moue that maine
Which freezing vapours doe restraine,
That sea becomes an ycie plaine:
And ships brought thither by the windes,
In beddes of yce fast lockt it bindes.
So as the men by toyle, nor Art,
Can make a way thence to depart.
Whose waues condensed with the cold
The hugie weight of Carts do hold.
With hollow sound that thereon runne,
And there the Besseans doe wonne,
Vntill Meotis feele the Sunne.
With such a froward still, the deepes
A soft and sluggish wallowing keepes;
As if in slumber they did rest,
And of their nature dispossest.
And like a standing poole growne sad,
That neither spring nor motion had;
But changed from his nature quite,
190
For he will neither rise nor fall,
Nor with his wonted roaring call;
He trembles not, nor frothing chides,
Nor Phœbæs influence giues him tides.
This fleet meane while with much disease,
Lay tumbling in this dead growne seas.
On this side did the aduerse fleet
Prepare their oares with them to meet,
Whilst they in this dead calme do ride,
And could not moue with winde or tide.
On th' other side they stood in dread,
And danger to be famished.
So as in this disasterous state
New feares, new praiers eleuate.
Vpon the Gods they call and cry,
That all the fury of the sky
Would bend it selfe to boysterous rage,
And so the stupid waues engage,
As that the fury of the maine
Would shew it selfe a sea againe.
But winde nor waues became so stout,
That they of ship-wracke need to doubt.
Yet after when the night was past,
The day with clouds was ouer-cast.
The hollow seas began to sturre,
And then Ceraunia windes did whurre,
Wherewith the fleet began to quake,
And so the aire the sailes did shake,
At length the crooke-back't waues did rise,
And in the sternes the ships surprise,
That with full sailes now forward plies.
So as these friendly seas and gales,
Them to Palestes hauens hales:
Where when they safely were arriu'd,
They Anchors cast, with ioy reviu'd.
This was the first confronting coast,
Where these two Captaines hoast to hoast,
Incamped were in eithers view.
And through these fields two riuers drew
Their pleasant streames, on Apsus hight,
And Genusus, more swift of flight.
Apsus by reason of a lake,
That into her his course did make,
With steady slye sought stealing pace,
Could shipping beare from place to place.
But swift Genusus head-long goes,
When as the Sunne melts heapes of snowes,
Or that the falles of showring raines,
Her swollen channels higher straines.
Yet neither of them with long race,
Within the land doth winding trace.
Fortune to this place gaue the fame
Of two braue Captaines great in name:
And here the worlds vaine hope decay'd,
That now their furies could be stay'd;
Since that the stations were so nye,
Where now they both incamped lye;
That each might others face behold,
And heare the tale each other told.
And many yeares were past betweene
Since thou great Pompey last had seene
That loued father-in-law of thine;
And did so neere a league combine
Of strict alianc'd blood with blood,
Though froward Fate the same with-stood.
When Cæsars daughter reft of life
His sonne-in-law made fit for strife.
And but vpon the Nylus shore,
He after saw thy head no more.
Where these two Captaines hoast to hoast,
Incamped were in eithers view.
And through these fields two riuers drew
191
And Genusus, more swift of flight.
Apsus by reason of a lake,
That into her his course did make,
With steady slye sought stealing pace,
Could shipping beare from place to place.
But swift Genusus head-long goes,
When as the Sunne melts heapes of snowes,
Or that the falles of showring raines,
Her swollen channels higher straines.
Yet neither of them with long race,
Within the land doth winding trace.
Fortune to this place gaue the fame
Of two braue Captaines great in name:
And here the worlds vaine hope decay'd,
That now their furies could be stay'd;
Since that the stations were so nye,
Where now they both incamped lye;
That each might others face behold,
And heare the tale each other told.
And many yeares were past betweene
Since thou great Pompey last had seene
That loued father-in-law of thine;
And did so neere a league combine
Of strict alianc'd blood with blood,
Though froward Fate the same with-stood.
When Cæsars daughter reft of life
His sonne-in-law made fit for strife.
And but vpon the Nylus shore,
He after saw thy head no more.
Now Cæsars thoughts were much dismaid
That many troopes still lingring staid:
Which for this place were ready prest,
And (straightly charg'd by his owne hest,
With speed to meet him on that coast)
Doth vexe to see warres time so lost.
The leading of these wanting bands
Was vnder fierce Antonius hands.
Who now (belike) did meditate
Vpon his owne Leucadian fate.
Cæsar on him calles with intreates,
And checkes his staying thus with threats.
O thou that in the world dost cause
Such mischifes by thy tedious pause.
VVhy holdst thou both the Gods and Fates,
Suspenced from our happy dates.
By mine owne speede and proper care
All other things dispatched are;
And Fortune now doth call for thee,
That thy right hand might aiding be:
The chiefest seruice to intend
That must our prosperous warfare end.
No Lybicke Syrts, nor doubtfull deepes
Vs in this sort a sunder keepes.
VVe doe not seeke with new deuice
Thy armed troopes now to entice
Into an vnknowne desperate maine.
O no thou sluggish idle swaine,
Cæsar bids thee to come, not goe,
I lead the way, and pierc'd the foe
Throughout these stranger seas and sands,
And safely haue conuaid my bands.
My tents art thou afraid to see?
This timelesse hap is death to me.
My words are spent to waues and winde,
Yet do not thou their humors binde
That to the seas are well inclin'd.
For if I bee not much deceau'd,
Thy Troopes so truely haue bequeau'd
To Cæsars Armes their might and maine,
That shipwracks doubt they would disdaine.
And dolours voyce now must I vse,
Thou dost thy selfe to much abuse.
The whole worlds hopes twixt thee and me,
Yet in no equall ballance be;
Cæsar doth in Epyrus Campe,
And there is all the Senates stampe:
VVhilst onely thou (so vncontrol'd)
Dost but Ausonia's limits hold.
VVhen Cæsar thus had twice or thrice
Reprou'd him for his loytring vice,
And saw that he so oft did spend
His treats, and threats vnto no end.
But Fortunes fauours thus neglects,
That his successe so much protects.
He vndertakes ('gainst this despight)
To make a strange attempt by night.
And maugre frights of seas mischance,
He dreadlesse doth himselfe aduance.
VVhilst sterne Antonius so did feare,
So oft commanded to be there.
For Cæsar saw his rash attempts
Fortune from danger still exempts:
And now he hopes with passage good,
To furrow through the raging flood,
Embarked in a Fisher-boate,
VVhen ships could scarce in safety floate.
That many troopes still lingring staid:
Which for this place were ready prest,
And (straightly charg'd by his owne hest,
With speed to meet him on that coast)
Doth vexe to see warres time so lost.
The leading of these wanting bands
Was vnder fierce Antonius hands.
Who now (belike) did meditate
Vpon his owne Leucadian fate.
192
And checkes his staying thus with threats.
O thou that in the world dost cause
Such mischifes by thy tedious pause.
VVhy holdst thou both the Gods and Fates,
Suspenced from our happy dates.
By mine owne speede and proper care
All other things dispatched are;
And Fortune now doth call for thee,
That thy right hand might aiding be:
The chiefest seruice to intend
That must our prosperous warfare end.
No Lybicke Syrts, nor doubtfull deepes
Vs in this sort a sunder keepes.
VVe doe not seeke with new deuice
Thy armed troopes now to entice
Into an vnknowne desperate maine.
O no thou sluggish idle swaine,
Cæsar bids thee to come, not goe,
I lead the way, and pierc'd the foe
Throughout these stranger seas and sands,
And safely haue conuaid my bands.
My tents art thou afraid to see?
This timelesse hap is death to me.
My words are spent to waues and winde,
Yet do not thou their humors binde
That to the seas are well inclin'd.
For if I bee not much deceau'd,
Thy Troopes so truely haue bequeau'd
To Cæsars Armes their might and maine,
That shipwracks doubt they would disdaine.
And dolours voyce now must I vse,
Thou dost thy selfe to much abuse.
The whole worlds hopes twixt thee and me,
Yet in no equall ballance be;
Cæsar doth in Epyrus Campe,
And there is all the Senates stampe:
VVhilst onely thou (so vncontrol'd)
Dost but Ausonia's limits hold.
VVhen Cæsar thus had twice or thrice
193
And saw that he so oft did spend
His treats, and threats vnto no end.
But Fortunes fauours thus neglects,
That his successe so much protects.
He vndertakes ('gainst this despight)
To make a strange attempt by night.
And maugre frights of seas mischance,
He dreadlesse doth himselfe aduance.
VVhilst sterne Antonius so did feare,
So oft commanded to be there.
For Cæsar saw his rash attempts
Fortune from danger still exempts:
And now he hopes with passage good,
To furrow through the raging flood,
Embarked in a Fisher-boate,
VVhen ships could scarce in safety floate.
Now had the silent night with rest
From care of Armes freed euery breast,
And slumbring soules with sweet repose
Their eyes in quyet thoughts doe close.
And those most soundly take their ease,
Whom lowly pouerty can please.
Now all the Campe dead silent binne,
The second watch did new beginne.
VVhen Cæsar with a carefull pace
Alongst the whusted guards did trace;
Not of his owne attendants heard,
VVhen his owne Tent he first vnspard.
Fortune was then his mate alone;
So through the Campe he past vnknowne,
VVho now were all possest with sleepe,
But scarce good watch the while they keepe.
And he dislik't this fault to see,
That they could so surprised be.
He romes about the crooked shores,
VVhere he a creeke at length explores:
And there a fisher-boate did ride,
That by a sturdy rope was tide.
The owner of this pelting skiffe
Hard vnder-neath a craggy cliffe,
Not farre from thence had his poore coate;
The bottome of a rotten boate
Was all his roofe; and for the side
Twas made of platted bul-rush dry'd,
Combin'd with canes and fenny flagges;
And on no stronger proppes it swagges.
From care of Armes freed euery breast,
And slumbring soules with sweet repose
Their eyes in quyet thoughts doe close.
And those most soundly take their ease,
Whom lowly pouerty can please.
Now all the Campe dead silent binne,
The second watch did new beginne.
VVhen Cæsar with a carefull pace
Alongst the whusted guards did trace;
Not of his owne attendants heard,
VVhen his owne Tent he first vnspard.
Fortune was then his mate alone;
So through the Campe he past vnknowne,
VVho now were all possest with sleepe,
But scarce good watch the while they keepe.
And he dislik't this fault to see,
That they could so surprised be.
He romes about the crooked shores,
VVhere he a creeke at length explores:
And there a fisher-boate did ride,
That by a sturdy rope was tide.
The owner of this pelting skiffe
194
Not farre from thence had his poore coate;
The bottome of a rotten boate
Was all his roofe; and for the side
Twas made of platted bul-rush dry'd,
Combin'd with canes and fenny flagges;
And on no stronger proppes it swagges.
Here Cæsar with his fist so knockes,
That therewithall this cottage rockes,
And did Amyclas frighted wake,
Who soundly then his rest did take;
But now his soft couch doth forsake.
Whose there (qth he) what shipwrackt wight
Beates at my doore this time of night?
What wretched man my helpe doth craue?
Or who can hope reliefe to haue
Of this base cottage where I wonne?
Great Fortune doth such corners shunne.
Thus said, he hastes a fire to make,
And doth the heaped ashes rake,
Some kindled sparkles to finde out,
And them with dry leaues strawes about:
And so with blowing kindles flame,
Whilst he of warres feares not the name.
He knew his simple home was free,
His house no prey of worth could be
For souldiers spoyles, or ciuill strife.
O safe and blessed poore mans life!
O sweet secured quiet state!
This pretious gift, and heauenly fate,
That on meane wights the Gods bestow,
The mighty ones do scarcely know.
VVhat Cities walles, or strongest Forts
VVhen Cæsars hand beates at the ports,
Could like security possesse?
But that some fright they would expresse.
His little wicket he sets ope;
Then Cæsar gaue his speech this scope:
Yong man (quoth he) aduance thy hope
Beyond the thoughts thou canst conceaue,
Fortunes full bounties now receaue.
If my directions thou obay,
And to Hesperia me conuay,
A Skippars trade thou shalt not need,
Nor toyle in age with hungry feed.
Spare not therefore thy wealth to raise,
Since that the Gods shew thee the wayes:
And (whilst thou maist) receiue that Fate,
Which will for euer store thy state.
So Cæsar said; for though but clad
In rusticke habit like a swad,
Yet could he not his tongue constraine
In speech to vse a priuate vaine.
Then poore Amyclas thus replies,
Too many dangers vs denies,
To trust this raging sea by night;
For first I mark't the sunnes last light,
When he declin'd to Thetis bed,
His face was nothing flaming red.
But his bright beames contracted were;
For on the middle of his spheare,
A foggy cloud his face did hide:
So as his beames it did diuide.
One part of them did Northward bend,
The other to the Southward tend.
And meane while in the midst he quail'd,
And setting pale, his brightnesse fail'd.
So as his beames did not offend
The lookers eyes his face that kend.
And when the Moone did mount the skies,
With sharpned hornes she did not rise.
Nor did her hollownesse appeare
VVithin her Orbe right azure cleare.
Nor as she wont in calmy night,
Her hornes thin toppes did beare vpright.
But (that which is a signe of winde)
Her colour was to red inclin'd.
And with a faintie pallid looke,
VVith dull aspect, a cloud she tooke.
Besides the murmure of the woods,
The rut and rocking of the floods
I doe not like; nor this signe neither,
The tumbling Dolphins boad foule weather.
The Cormorant me no whit likes,
That he vnto the dry land seekes.
And that he takes delight
To trust his wings with towring flight,
That naturally affects the waues:
His head the Sea-crow often laues,
As though that he some stormes attends,
And on the low shores ietting wends.
But if it be thine owne desire,
And vrgent cause doe haste require,
Il'e giue thee all the helpe I may,
To bring thee to thy wished bay:
And where thou bidst we land will touch,
Or windes and seas shall faile me much.
That therewithall this cottage rockes,
And did Amyclas frighted wake,
Who soundly then his rest did take;
But now his soft couch doth forsake.
Whose there (qth he) what shipwrackt wight
Beates at my doore this time of night?
What wretched man my helpe doth craue?
Or who can hope reliefe to haue
Of this base cottage where I wonne?
Great Fortune doth such corners shunne.
Thus said, he hastes a fire to make,
And doth the heaped ashes rake,
Some kindled sparkles to finde out,
And them with dry leaues strawes about:
And so with blowing kindles flame,
Whilst he of warres feares not the name.
He knew his simple home was free,
His house no prey of worth could be
For souldiers spoyles, or ciuill strife.
O safe and blessed poore mans life!
O sweet secured quiet state!
This pretious gift, and heauenly fate,
That on meane wights the Gods bestow,
The mighty ones do scarcely know.
VVhat Cities walles, or strongest Forts
VVhen Cæsars hand beates at the ports,
Could like security possesse?
But that some fright they would expresse.
His little wicket he sets ope;
Then Cæsar gaue his speech this scope:
Yong man (quoth he) aduance thy hope
Beyond the thoughts thou canst conceaue,
195
If my directions thou obay,
And to Hesperia me conuay,
A Skippars trade thou shalt not need,
Nor toyle in age with hungry feed.
Spare not therefore thy wealth to raise,
Since that the Gods shew thee the wayes:
And (whilst thou maist) receiue that Fate,
Which will for euer store thy state.
So Cæsar said; for though but clad
In rusticke habit like a swad,
Yet could he not his tongue constraine
In speech to vse a priuate vaine.
Then poore Amyclas thus replies,
Too many dangers vs denies,
To trust this raging sea by night;
For first I mark't the sunnes last light,
When he declin'd to Thetis bed,
His face was nothing flaming red.
But his bright beames contracted were;
For on the middle of his spheare,
A foggy cloud his face did hide:
So as his beames it did diuide.
One part of them did Northward bend,
The other to the Southward tend.
And meane while in the midst he quail'd,
And setting pale, his brightnesse fail'd.
So as his beames did not offend
The lookers eyes his face that kend.
And when the Moone did mount the skies,
With sharpned hornes she did not rise.
Nor did her hollownesse appeare
VVithin her Orbe right azure cleare.
Nor as she wont in calmy night,
Her hornes thin toppes did beare vpright.
But (that which is a signe of winde)
Her colour was to red inclin'd.
And with a faintie pallid looke,
VVith dull aspect, a cloud she tooke.
Besides the murmure of the woods,
196
I doe not like; nor this signe neither,
The tumbling Dolphins boad foule weather.
The Cormorant me no whit likes,
That he vnto the dry land seekes.
And that he takes delight
To trust his wings with towring flight,
That naturally affects the waues:
His head the Sea-crow often laues,
As though that he some stormes attends,
And on the low shores ietting wends.
But if it be thine owne desire,
And vrgent cause doe haste require,
Il'e giue thee all the helpe I may,
To bring thee to thy wished bay:
And where thou bidst we land will touch,
Or windes and seas shall faile me much.
He ends his tale, and therewithall
The fastned cable in they hale;
And with the winde his sailes lets flye,
But with their motion suddenly:
Not onely ouer all the deepes,
Huge flaming streames from starers downe sweepes.
Spearsing in furrowes through the skye,
But those chiefe fixed starres on hye,
That next the pole doe stand so nye,
Did sensibly appeare to shake.
Then did a blacke mist ouer-rake
The vast wilde backe of Neptunes maine,
And with a long stretcht rowling traine,
The threatning billowes sparkling burne,
The windes vncertainly did turne.
And by the swelling waues they finde,
The hollow seas were fil'd with winde.
Then quoth the Pilot of this barge,
See how this tempest doth enlarge.
Besides we cannot certaine finde,
Yet from what quarter blowes the winde.
Whether from out the South, or East,
In no place he doth constant rest.
Againe, if we the rut doe marke
Which in the sea doth murmuring barke,
A North-west winde it signifies,
Which slat our course to Latium stries.
So as no meanes we haue to tacke
That way, nor on that coast to wracke.
This desperate course we must reiect,
If we our safety will respect:
And cast about to lay the land,
From whence we now directly stand,
Before our Skiffe bee too much tost,
And we too farre runne from the coast.
The fastned cable in they hale;
And with the winde his sailes lets flye,
But with their motion suddenly:
Not onely ouer all the deepes,
Huge flaming streames from starers downe sweepes.
Spearsing in furrowes through the skye,
But those chiefe fixed starres on hye,
That next the pole doe stand so nye,
Did sensibly appeare to shake.
Then did a blacke mist ouer-rake
The vast wilde backe of Neptunes maine,
And with a long stretcht rowling traine,
The threatning billowes sparkling burne,
The windes vncertainly did turne.
And by the swelling waues they finde,
The hollow seas were fil'd with winde.
Then quoth the Pilot of this barge,
See how this tempest doth enlarge.
Besides we cannot certaine finde,
Yet from what quarter blowes the winde.
Whether from out the South, or East,
In no place he doth constant rest.
197
Which in the sea doth murmuring barke,
A North-west winde it signifies,
Which slat our course to Latium stries.
So as no meanes we haue to tacke
That way, nor on that coast to wracke.
This desperate course we must reiect,
If we our safety will respect:
And cast about to lay the land,
From whence we now directly stand,
Before our Skiffe bee too much tost,
And we too farre runne from the coast.
But Cæsar scornes that he doth say,
Hoping all perils will giue way
To his attempts; and tels him plaine
No fury of the winde, or maine,
For feare shall make him turne againe.
If froward skies be all thy feare
For Italy, that fault I'le beare.
Thy onely dread and doubt doth grow,
Because (poore soule) thou dost not know
Who 'tis that with thee now doth saile,
Whom Fortune neuer yet did faile.
But she would thinke she did me wrong
To hold backe my desires so long.
Therefore passe boldly through this rage,
Secured in my safe presage.
This is but toyle of windes and seas,
Which shall no whit our barke disease.
Thy ship for fraight doth Cæsar beare,
To free thee from the Oceans feare.
And these fierce windes that blow so hye,
Shall be appeased by and by:
And euen the very raging maine,
Shall by our ship his quiet gaine.
Thy course in no case see thou change,
But from a loofe, this next shore range.
And then beleeue thou shalt attaine
Calabria coast, and end thy paine.
When no lands else beneath the skye
Doth for our ship and safety lye.
Thou little knowst that all these threates
That so the waues with tempests beates,
Is but that Fortune would declare
To me her tender loue and care,
VVhen skies and seas most furious are.
The word he had no sooner spoke,
But from a cloud a whirle-winde broke
The cordage and the tackling rownd,
So that the sailes aloft did bound,
And whirle about the tottring mast,
The ships ioynts open with the blast:
And all the perils of the earth
VVere here deliuered at a birth.
For first from the Atlanticke maine,
The billowes rowl'd with westerne straine.
And when they had this sea ingag'd,
Against the rockes they roar'd and rag'd.
VVith that comes in the Northerne blast,
VVhich doth the waues repell as fast;
So as the seas did stand at stay
VVhich of the two they should obay.
But yet the rauing Scithian flawes,
Did wrest the waues vnto his lawes.
And so the Oceans bottome rakes,
That in the sands it path-way makes.
Neither did Boreas with his freate
Against the cliffes the billowes beate;
But euen against those raging waues,
That with the Westerne Tempest raues.
And now the seas are growne so hye,
That waue against the waue doth flye,
Although the winde doe calmed lye.
But yet the East-winde did not cease
His fury likewise to expresse:
Neither thinke I that in this storme,
The South-winde did his blasts conforme
To milder mood, with showres supprest,
And still in Æols dungeon rest.
But that the windes from euery part,
Incensed were to striuing Mart.
And that each one exprest his most,
To blow the billow from his cost,
And twixt them held the maine embost.
For now the lesser seas likewise
In mutiny began to rise.
Th' Ægean gainst the Tyrrhen waues,
Impetuously resisting raues.
And the Ionian roaring vease,
Confronts the Adriaticke seas.
How oft that day were steepy rockes
Cleane ouerturn'd with whirle-wind shocks?
Gainst which the billowes beate in vaine,
And could not such huge mountains straine,
As quite did ouer-whelmed lye,
Whose towring toppes did threat the skye.
Neuer (I thinke) did any shore,
Endure the like sea-storme before:
Nor any clime twixt either pole,
Did from her coasts such billowes role.
These seas where they the lands surrownd,
In diuers parts with indraughts drown'd.
So did high Ioue in former times,
Weari'd with scourging worldly crimes,
His thunder-bolts at last forbeare,
And causd his brothers Trydent speare
To helpe him vengeance due to take,
Which did a second Empire make:
When Nations were in waters drownd,
And Thætis would admit no bound
Vnto the lands, but heauens high cope;
Neither could that haue beene her scope.
But to the starres it would haue rose,
If Iupiter did not oppose,
And her with weighty clouds foreclose.
Hoping all perils will giue way
To his attempts; and tels him plaine
No fury of the winde, or maine,
For feare shall make him turne againe.
If froward skies be all thy feare
For Italy, that fault I'le beare.
Thy onely dread and doubt doth grow,
Because (poore soule) thou dost not know
Who 'tis that with thee now doth saile,
Whom Fortune neuer yet did faile.
But she would thinke she did me wrong
To hold backe my desires so long.
Therefore passe boldly through this rage,
Secured in my safe presage.
This is but toyle of windes and seas,
Which shall no whit our barke disease.
Thy ship for fraight doth Cæsar beare,
To free thee from the Oceans feare.
And these fierce windes that blow so hye,
Shall be appeased by and by:
And euen the very raging maine,
Shall by our ship his quiet gaine.
Thy course in no case see thou change,
But from a loofe, this next shore range.
And then beleeue thou shalt attaine
Calabria coast, and end thy paine.
When no lands else beneath the skye
198
Thou little knowst that all these threates
That so the waues with tempests beates,
Is but that Fortune would declare
To me her tender loue and care,
VVhen skies and seas most furious are.
The word he had no sooner spoke,
But from a cloud a whirle-winde broke
The cordage and the tackling rownd,
So that the sailes aloft did bound,
And whirle about the tottring mast,
The ships ioynts open with the blast:
And all the perils of the earth
VVere here deliuered at a birth.
For first from the Atlanticke maine,
The billowes rowl'd with westerne straine.
And when they had this sea ingag'd,
Against the rockes they roar'd and rag'd.
VVith that comes in the Northerne blast,
VVhich doth the waues repell as fast;
So as the seas did stand at stay
VVhich of the two they should obay.
But yet the rauing Scithian flawes,
Did wrest the waues vnto his lawes.
And so the Oceans bottome rakes,
That in the sands it path-way makes.
Neither did Boreas with his freate
Against the cliffes the billowes beate;
But euen against those raging waues,
That with the Westerne Tempest raues.
And now the seas are growne so hye,
That waue against the waue doth flye,
Although the winde doe calmed lye.
But yet the East-winde did not cease
His fury likewise to expresse:
Neither thinke I that in this storme,
The South-winde did his blasts conforme
To milder mood, with showres supprest,
And still in Æols dungeon rest.
But that the windes from euery part,
199
And that each one exprest his most,
To blow the billow from his cost,
And twixt them held the maine embost.
For now the lesser seas likewise
In mutiny began to rise.
Th' Ægean gainst the Tyrrhen waues,
Impetuously resisting raues.
And the Ionian roaring vease,
Confronts the Adriaticke seas.
How oft that day were steepy rockes
Cleane ouerturn'd with whirle-wind shocks?
Gainst which the billowes beate in vaine,
And could not such huge mountains straine,
As quite did ouer-whelmed lye,
Whose towring toppes did threat the skye.
Neuer (I thinke) did any shore,
Endure the like sea-storme before:
Nor any clime twixt either pole,
Did from her coasts such billowes role.
These seas where they the lands surrownd,
In diuers parts with indraughts drown'd.
So did high Ioue in former times,
Weari'd with scourging worldly crimes,
His thunder-bolts at last forbeare,
And causd his brothers Trydent speare
To helpe him vengeance due to take,
Which did a second Empire make:
When Nations were in waters drownd,
And Thætis would admit no bound
Vnto the lands, but heauens high cope;
Neither could that haue beene her scope.
But to the starres it would haue rose,
If Iupiter did not oppose,
And her with weighty clouds foreclose.
This night was not the heauens night,
But hellish darke depriuing light.
And thickned with such clouds of showres,
That whole vnparted downe-right powres,
So as the feared lightning flash,
And his swift brightnesse, it did quash.
The clouded aire becomes obscure,
The conuex spheares quakings endure.
The Axle that the world sustaines,
Doth sound aloud with cracking straines.
The ioynts and structures of the poles
VVith labouring motion tottring roles.
Nature suspects the Chaos old,
And that discording vncontrold
The Elements againe would warre,
And in their harmony would iarre.
And that with Gods, the fiends of hell
Would now all mingled be pell-mell.
One onely signe some hope did giue,
That in this storme this barke could liue.
But looke how farre the distance showes,
Downe where the pleasant Ocean flowes,
To him that on the top doth stand
Of mount Leucades lofty land:
Euen so the trough of seas appear'd
To him that now the rudder stear'd:
When as the ship was borne aloft
With swelling of the billow soft.
And when againe she did descend
Betweene the billowes, as they bend;
So hollow in the furrow lies,
As that her mast is hid from eies.
Sometimes as high as clouds her sailes,
Sometimes her keele the bottome trailes.
For where the sea doth breake a sunder,
The sands are bared that lye vnder.
And when the parted billowes filles,
They rise in heapes like mighty hilles.
But hellish darke depriuing light.
And thickned with such clouds of showres,
That whole vnparted downe-right powres,
So as the feared lightning flash,
200
The clouded aire becomes obscure,
The conuex spheares quakings endure.
The Axle that the world sustaines,
Doth sound aloud with cracking straines.
The ioynts and structures of the poles
VVith labouring motion tottring roles.
Nature suspects the Chaos old,
And that discording vncontrold
The Elements againe would warre,
And in their harmony would iarre.
And that with Gods, the fiends of hell
Would now all mingled be pell-mell.
One onely signe some hope did giue,
That in this storme this barke could liue.
But looke how farre the distance showes,
Downe where the pleasant Ocean flowes,
To him that on the top doth stand
Of mount Leucades lofty land:
Euen so the trough of seas appear'd
To him that now the rudder stear'd:
When as the ship was borne aloft
With swelling of the billow soft.
And when againe she did descend
Betweene the billowes, as they bend;
So hollow in the furrow lies,
As that her mast is hid from eies.
Sometimes as high as clouds her sailes,
Sometimes her keele the bottome trailes.
For where the sea doth breake a sunder,
The sands are bared that lye vnder.
And when the parted billowes filles,
They rise in heapes like mighty hilles.
Feare now all hope of Art exceedes,
To guide the helme the maister dreads:
To port, or weare, or serue the seas,
The labouring ship he cannot ease.
Onely by this they did suruiue,
The waues so contrary did striue,
As that it kept the ship vpright
Betwixt them both with equall might.
For as one billow downe did straine,
Another check't him vp againe.
And by this meanes not ouer-set
With euery surge aloft they get.
Of Sasons shelues, and lowly sand,
Nothing at all in feare they stand.
Nor yet of the Thessalian shore,
Whose crooked strands the pibbles store.
Nor yet Ambracia's noysome bay,
Where ships so oft are cast away.
But that which feares these sea-men most,
Is the high-clift Cæraunian cost.
Now Cæsar thinkes this dangerous state,
Is worthy to confront his fate.
How now (quoth he) are powers Diuine
So troubled with this life of mine,
As that they should such care bestow
How they the same might ouer-throw?
That sailing in this trifling boat
Such monstrous seas together float.
If that the glory of my end
Vnto the seas the Fates do lend,
And warres no more we must intend;
Yee Gods aboue, with dreadlesse minde,
I take what death you haue design'd:
Although this hastned date preuents
The finishing of braue euents.
But I haue done acts great enow,
I made the Northerne Nations bow.
The forces of my enemy
For feare of mee I made to flye.
And Rome it selfe doth plainly see,
Pompey a second is to mee.
The fagots me by warre deny'd,
With peoples voyce to me were cry'd.
No Titles of the Roman state,
Haue wanted to adorne my Fate.
And no wight now but thou alone
Fortune, to whom my vowes are knowne,
Shall know the secrets of my will;
For though that I haue had my fill
Of honors, and enioy the grace
Of Consull, and Dictators place:
And so to Stygian shades will trace.
O yet tis my desire to dye
In priuate sort, and secretly.
O Heauens! no funerals I craue,
Let my torne body for a graue
Be kept amidst the weltring waue.
Both fires and mournings me deny,
Whereby my fame the more shall flye.
For no man witting of my end,
All coasts with dread will me attend.
To guide the helme the maister dreads:
To port, or weare, or serue the seas,
The labouring ship he cannot ease.
Onely by this they did suruiue,
The waues so contrary did striue,
As that it kept the ship vpright
201
For as one billow downe did straine,
Another check't him vp againe.
And by this meanes not ouer-set
With euery surge aloft they get.
Of Sasons shelues, and lowly sand,
Nothing at all in feare they stand.
Nor yet of the Thessalian shore,
Whose crooked strands the pibbles store.
Nor yet Ambracia's noysome bay,
Where ships so oft are cast away.
But that which feares these sea-men most,
Is the high-clift Cæraunian cost.
Now Cæsar thinkes this dangerous state,
Is worthy to confront his fate.
How now (quoth he) are powers Diuine
So troubled with this life of mine,
As that they should such care bestow
How they the same might ouer-throw?
That sailing in this trifling boat
Such monstrous seas together float.
If that the glory of my end
Vnto the seas the Fates do lend,
And warres no more we must intend;
Yee Gods aboue, with dreadlesse minde,
I take what death you haue design'd:
Although this hastned date preuents
The finishing of braue euents.
But I haue done acts great enow,
I made the Northerne Nations bow.
The forces of my enemy
For feare of mee I made to flye.
And Rome it selfe doth plainly see,
Pompey a second is to mee.
The fagots me by warre deny'd,
With peoples voyce to me were cry'd.
No Titles of the Roman state,
Haue wanted to adorne my Fate.
And no wight now but thou alone
Fortune, to whom my vowes are knowne,
202
For though that I haue had my fill
Of honors, and enioy the grace
Of Consull, and Dictators place:
And so to Stygian shades will trace.
O yet tis my desire to dye
In priuate sort, and secretly.
O Heauens! no funerals I craue,
Let my torne body for a graue
Be kept amidst the weltring waue.
Both fires and mournings me deny,
Whereby my fame the more shall flye.
For no man witting of my end,
All coasts with dread will me attend.
So hauing said, the surging whifts
The ship ten times together lifts,
And (that which wondrous is to say)
She on the waues top still did stay;
And did not downe decline againe:
But with a sweeping billowes straine,
The barke was cast vpon the sands,
Whereas their last forsaken lands,
Doth make a narrow hollow bay,
And there a shore doe safely stay.
Here at one cast againe possest
With all his Fortune, so much blest:
And with so many stately Townes,
Such Cities, and such Regall Crownes:
But Cæsar thus return'd againe,
And Phœbus rising from the maine,
He could not so himselfe conceale,
As when he from his Campe did steale,
And all his Army did deceaue.
For now about him clustring cleaue
His loyall troopes, to see his face,
But teares a while all ioy did chase,
And then their Chieftaine they reproue
With such complaints as grow from loue.
Stout Cæsar, whither now (quoth they)
Did thy rash valour thee convey?
And to what Fate (when thou wert fled)
VVere we poore soules abandoned?
VVhy didst thou to vnwilling waues
Thy body giue, where danger raues?
VVhen thou well knowst how many frends
VVhat peoples safeties, liues and ends,
Onely vpon thy Fate depends.
And that the world with loue and dread,
Hath chosen thee her soueraigne head.
Tis inhumanity (I say)
Life wilfully to cast away.
VVas none of vs of that desart,
VVith thee in this to share a part?
Of all thy friends that yet remaine,
In this wouldst thou no one retaine?
Dead sleepe (alas) did vs deceaue,
VVhilst that the seas did thee bereaue:
And thereof we are much asham'd,
But must this cause therefore be blam'd,
That thou didst seeke Hesperia land?
A desperate deed thou took'st in hand,
In such fierce cruell stormes as these
To trust thy selfe with raging seas.
In most extreames, and last of all
When doubtfull wrackes we would fore-stall,
Then men are wont (to cut off strife)
Stoutly to end a loathsome life.
But thou with all this worlds good blest,
The seas must be therewith possest.
Why weariest thou the Gods aboue?
Fortune hath shewd her care and loue
Sufficient, if she do no more
But thy safe landing on the shore.
And this may serue, thee to debarre
From hoped fortune in thy warre.
No better vse can Cæsar make
Of that great care the Gods do take
For his affaires, the earth that swaies,
And to whose heast all men obayes?
Then that such grace they him behight
To be a happy ship-wrack't wight?
But whilst they thus expostulate,
The sunne his beames doth eleuate:
And so breakes off this dire complaint,
The swelling seas now growing faint
With huge turmoyle; her waues deprest,
When as the windes were laid to rest.
The ship ten times together lifts,
And (that which wondrous is to say)
She on the waues top still did stay;
And did not downe decline againe:
But with a sweeping billowes straine,
The barke was cast vpon the sands,
Whereas their last forsaken lands,
Doth make a narrow hollow bay,
And there a shore doe safely stay.
Here at one cast againe possest
With all his Fortune, so much blest:
And with so many stately Townes,
Such Cities, and such Regall Crownes:
But Cæsar thus return'd againe,
And Phœbus rising from the maine,
He could not so himselfe conceale,
As when he from his Campe did steale,
And all his Army did deceaue.
For now about him clustring cleaue
His loyall troopes, to see his face,
But teares a while all ioy did chase,
And then their Chieftaine they reproue
With such complaints as grow from loue.
Stout Cæsar, whither now (quoth they)
Did thy rash valour thee convey?
203
VVere we poore soules abandoned?
VVhy didst thou to vnwilling waues
Thy body giue, where danger raues?
VVhen thou well knowst how many frends
VVhat peoples safeties, liues and ends,
Onely vpon thy Fate depends.
And that the world with loue and dread,
Hath chosen thee her soueraigne head.
Tis inhumanity (I say)
Life wilfully to cast away.
VVas none of vs of that desart,
VVith thee in this to share a part?
Of all thy friends that yet remaine,
In this wouldst thou no one retaine?
Dead sleepe (alas) did vs deceaue,
VVhilst that the seas did thee bereaue:
And thereof we are much asham'd,
But must this cause therefore be blam'd,
That thou didst seeke Hesperia land?
A desperate deed thou took'st in hand,
In such fierce cruell stormes as these
To trust thy selfe with raging seas.
In most extreames, and last of all
When doubtfull wrackes we would fore-stall,
Then men are wont (to cut off strife)
Stoutly to end a loathsome life.
But thou with all this worlds good blest,
The seas must be therewith possest.
Why weariest thou the Gods aboue?
Fortune hath shewd her care and loue
Sufficient, if she do no more
But thy safe landing on the shore.
And this may serue, thee to debarre
From hoped fortune in thy warre.
No better vse can Cæsar make
Of that great care the Gods do take
For his affaires, the earth that swaies,
And to whose heast all men obayes?
Then that such grace they him behight
204
But whilst they thus expostulate,
The sunne his beames doth eleuate:
And so breakes off this dire complaint,
The swelling seas now growing faint
With huge turmoyle; her waues deprest,
When as the windes were laid to rest.
And then the leaders of those bands,
That lay so long in Latium lands,
Seeing the maine now spent with rage,
And cleansing Boreas did asswage
The lowring gusts of seas and sky,
They loosd their ships the waues to trye.
Which long and oft had tryall made
Twixt sailers skilfull in their trade,
And the resisting stubborne windes,
Which so each other equall bindes,
That they the broad seas could not scoure,
And come to Cæsar with their power.
But now a boord the Souldiers get,
The ships in order they are set.
When as the night with froward gale,
Kept Mariners they could not hale
Their tackes aboord, nor ply their sailes,
Amongst the ships all order failes.
So do the Cranes in strained rankes,
When they forsake Strimonian bankes,
Shunning the rage of winters frost,
Go seeke their drinke on Nylus coast.
And when they first beginne their flight,
Their rankes so orderly they dight,
That diuers figures they retaine,
Whilst they throughout the aire doe straine;
Vntill at length some Southerne blast
Amongst their wings his puffes do cast:
Wherewith they are inforc'd to flye
A higher pitch in windy skye.
And then confusdly do begin
To breake their order filed thin.
In clusters soaring round together,
Framing their flight to serue the wether.
And puts the letter out of square,
Whose forme in flying first they bare.
That lay so long in Latium lands,
Seeing the maine now spent with rage,
And cleansing Boreas did asswage
The lowring gusts of seas and sky,
They loosd their ships the waues to trye.
Which long and oft had tryall made
Twixt sailers skilfull in their trade,
And the resisting stubborne windes,
Which so each other equall bindes,
That they the broad seas could not scoure,
And come to Cæsar with their power.
But now a boord the Souldiers get,
The ships in order they are set.
When as the night with froward gale,
Kept Mariners they could not hale
Their tackes aboord, nor ply their sailes,
Amongst the ships all order failes.
So do the Cranes in strained rankes,
When they forsake Strimonian bankes,
Shunning the rage of winters frost,
Go seeke their drinke on Nylus coast.
And when they first beginne their flight,
Their rankes so orderly they dight,
That diuers figures they retaine,
Whilst they throughout the aire doe straine;
Vntill at length some Southerne blast
Amongst their wings his puffes do cast:
Wherewith they are inforc'd to flye
A higher pitch in windy skye.
And then confusdly do begin
To breake their order filed thin.
In clusters soaring round together,
205
And puts the letter out of square,
Whose forme in flying first they bare.
But with the dauning of the day,
The winde began to beare a sway,
Stir'd with the sight of Phœbus face:
And now it hath this fleete in chase.
Which as it saild, did striue in vaine,
The shores of Lissus to attaine.
But yet that land they could not lay,
Till North-winde gaue the South-winde way.
And to Nymphæus port did guide
The fleet, which Boreas blast deny'd,
In keeping backe the checking tide.
Now Pompey sees prouision made
From sundry coasts him to inuade.
And Cæsars force at point to Arme,
From euery place about him swarme.
So as his Campe must now withstand
The daily garboyles neere at hand.
He doth resolue to place a part
His nuptiall care, secure from Mart.
And vnto Lesbos meanes to send
His faire Cornelia, there to spend
This bloody time, remote a farre
From clattring Armes, and noyse of warre.
Good God, how iust loue rules and bindes
Those men that are of worthy mindes.
Loue so in Pompey breedes remorce,
That dread and doubt doe warres diuorce.
For now Cornelia is the cause
That he himselfe a while with-drawes,
From hazarding the doubtful scarre
Of Fortune, in this ciuill warre,
When all the world and Roman state
Was now exposd to martiall Fate.
He now wants words to shew his minde,
And to delayes is whole enclin'd.
Whereby he may protract euent,
And trifle Fate in loue-time spent,
Now when the night was almost past,
And sleepy rest had lent his last
To slumbring eyes, Cornelia than
Sweetly embracing her good man,
Seeking withall his lippes to smacke,
Whose breast deep cares did strain & rack
To her the whiles he turnes his back.
When wounded she with blinded feares,
Seeing his eyes besprent with teares,
Durst not desire the cause to learne,
Nor seeme she did his teares discerne.
Then sighing, thus he said; Deare wife,
To me more pleasing then my life,
Whilst I in happy state did liue;
But now dost cause of sorrow giue,
Since that the heauy day I see,
That our sweet ioyes must parted bee.
Too short a date for our delight:
Though all to long to stay from fight.
For Cæsar now is ready prest,
And warre is onely in request,
During which time, Lesbos shall be
A safe retiring place for thee.
Forbeare requests to me to make,
I haue resolu'd this course to take.
And haue denyd mine owne desire,
Thou shalt not long from me retire.
But things are now in desperate chaunce,
And when as ruine doth aduance,
The greatest states must lead the daunce.
It may suffise thee still to heare
When perils are to Pompey neare.
But sure thy loue deceiues me farre,
If thou affect to see this warre.
How fouly I might be asham'd
That now for Mart haue all things fram'd;
To sleepe securely with my wife,
Sequestred from this ciuill strife?
And when the sounding Trumpets shall
The wretched world to battaile call,
That Pompey then with drowsie eyes,
Should from thy tender bosome rise.
To wofull Pompey 'twere a skorne,
That he no preiudice hath borne
Amongst the rest, in ciuill strife,
Nor bard so much as of his wife.
But thou meane while shalt liue secure
From perils that the rest indure.
And safer then great Kings can bee;
For being thus remou'd from me,
Fortune shall neuer thee perplex
With those great cares that must me vex.
But if the Gods will haue it so,
That we be conquerd by our foe;
My best part yet shall safe remaine.
Or if the fates doe me constraine
The cruell victors force to shunne;
Then know I whither safe to runne.
The grieued dame waxt faint and pale
When she had heard this heauy tale.
Her sences rapted in a sound,
Sorrow a while did her confound:
Vntill her voyce was come againe,
And then did murmuring thus complaine.
No cause (deere Pompey) I doe finde,
To thinke the Fates, or Gods vnkinde,
For wronging of our nuptiall bed:
Our liues haue happily beene led.
Death doth not separate our loue,
Nor funerals need we to proue.
But that now (as the common sort)
I should be held from my consort.
And like the base Plebeian rout,
From thee I should be so cast out
It grieues my soule; what must our foe
With his approch worke me such woe?
Thy father-in-law we honor doe
To breake this league betwixt vs two.
VVhat, is the loue that I haue showne
To Pompey, yet no better knowne?
Think'st thou that ought so safe can bee,
As thy deere selfe is vnto mee?
Haue not we still, with mutuall hearts,
Withstood all scornes, and Fortunes thwarts?
And wilt thou cruell now me leaue,
And (sep'rate from thee) so bequeaue
My carefull head to ruines state,
And to a thundring fearefull Fate?
Thinkst thou, thou dost my life protect,
Whil'st my desire thou dost reiect?
As though to me a harme it were,
With thee in perils part to beare.
No, no; for whilst I draw my breath,
I'le follow thee vnto the death.
And after thee so long surviue,
Vntill the heauy fame arriue
Vpon this farre remoued shore;
But after that will liue no more.
Meane while thou dost but me inure
To Destinies, and to endure.
O pardon me (confesse I must)
In this I feare my strength to trust.
But if my prayers may take place,
Or that the Gods doe rue my case,
Let thy poore wife know last of all,
What euer Fortune shall befall.
For though at last thou conquest gaine,
Perplext yet shall I still remaine.
And Lesbos will hold me in awe,
Though thou thy sword with conquest draw.
For I as much shall stand in doubt,
That Cæsar being put to rout,
Will (flying in a desp'rate case)
Surprise me in this strengthlesse place.
This coast will now bee more of fame,
So honor'd with my noble name:
Who will not know that place the while,
Where Pompey's wife liues in exile?
For euery one when serues the winde,
The way to Mitelen will finde.
But now I make this last request,
If thou in battaile be distrest,
And that thy conquer'd Armes thou leaue
And safety must by flight receaue:
If thou thy selfe to seas bequeaue;
O let thy lucklesse vessell striue,
On any shore first to arriue,
Then on this coast to seeke reliefe;
Such meeting would encrease our griefe.
Thus said, as one distract with dread,
Inrag'd she leaues her loathed bed,
And her prouides to haste away,
Impatient of her griefes delay.
Her Pompey (ere she left the place)
She did not kisse with sweet embrace:
Nor yet her armes she euer twinde
About his necke, with fauours kinde,
So to relieue his grieued minde.
So quail'd the last fruit of that loue,
Which they before so long did proue.
Outragiously they both lament,
Their streaming teares their bosomes drent.
And neither of them had the heart
To say, Farewell, when they should part.
Neuer had they in all their life,
Endured such a storme of strife.
All other harmes that could betide,
With constant mindes they did abide.
The haplesse dame the place doth leaue,
And then her traine did her receaue.
And to the seas doe her conuay,
Where on the sands she prostrate lay,
And to the bankes she clinged fast,
But her aboord they bare at last.
They did not with such heauy plight,
At that time leaue their Countries sight,
Nor from Hesperian coast depart
When Cæsars Armes did make them start;
Great Pompeys faithfull wife doth this
Forsake her Lord without a kisse:
And from him flies, now left alone,
But both of them doe part in moane.
When night approch't she could not sleepe,
Cold then did her long waking keepe;
Not vsd before to widdow'd bed,
From cares she could not weane her head.
Nor take her rest alone to lye,
Her husbands sides not being by.
How oft could she (but all in vaine)
When sleepe her tender eyes did straine,
With armes deceau'd, hugge and embrace
The empty bed in Pompey's place?
And now forgetfull of her flight,
Did seeke to finde her Pheare by night.
For though her feruent deere desire
Her heart and marrow sets on fire,
Yet tooke she not delight to spread
Her limbes throughout the cooling bed.
But still that side reserued free,
Fearing he should vnfurnish't be.
But oh! the Gods did not prouide
That so great ioy should her betide.
For now the fatall day drawes neere,
That she (poore soule) shall see her deere
Repaire to her with heauy cheere.
The winde began to beare a sway,
Stir'd with the sight of Phœbus face:
And now it hath this fleete in chase.
Which as it saild, did striue in vaine,
The shores of Lissus to attaine.
But yet that land they could not lay,
Till North-winde gaue the South-winde way.
And to Nymphæus port did guide
The fleet, which Boreas blast deny'd,
In keeping backe the checking tide.
Now Pompey sees prouision made
From sundry coasts him to inuade.
And Cæsars force at point to Arme,
From euery place about him swarme.
So as his Campe must now withstand
The daily garboyles neere at hand.
He doth resolue to place a part
His nuptiall care, secure from Mart.
And vnto Lesbos meanes to send
His faire Cornelia, there to spend
This bloody time, remote a farre
From clattring Armes, and noyse of warre.
Good God, how iust loue rules and bindes
Those men that are of worthy mindes.
Loue so in Pompey breedes remorce,
That dread and doubt doe warres diuorce.
For now Cornelia is the cause
That he himselfe a while with-drawes,
From hazarding the doubtful scarre
Of Fortune, in this ciuill warre,
When all the world and Roman state
Was now exposd to martiall Fate.
He now wants words to shew his minde,
And to delayes is whole enclin'd.
Whereby he may protract euent,
And trifle Fate in loue-time spent,
206
And sleepy rest had lent his last
To slumbring eyes, Cornelia than
Sweetly embracing her good man,
Seeking withall his lippes to smacke,
Whose breast deep cares did strain & rack
To her the whiles he turnes his back.
When wounded she with blinded feares,
Seeing his eyes besprent with teares,
Durst not desire the cause to learne,
Nor seeme she did his teares discerne.
Then sighing, thus he said; Deare wife,
To me more pleasing then my life,
Whilst I in happy state did liue;
But now dost cause of sorrow giue,
Since that the heauy day I see,
That our sweet ioyes must parted bee.
Too short a date for our delight:
Though all to long to stay from fight.
For Cæsar now is ready prest,
And warre is onely in request,
During which time, Lesbos shall be
A safe retiring place for thee.
Forbeare requests to me to make,
I haue resolu'd this course to take.
And haue denyd mine owne desire,
Thou shalt not long from me retire.
But things are now in desperate chaunce,
And when as ruine doth aduance,
The greatest states must lead the daunce.
It may suffise thee still to heare
When perils are to Pompey neare.
But sure thy loue deceiues me farre,
If thou affect to see this warre.
How fouly I might be asham'd
That now for Mart haue all things fram'd;
To sleepe securely with my wife,
Sequestred from this ciuill strife?
And when the sounding Trumpets shall
The wretched world to battaile call,
207
Should from thy tender bosome rise.
To wofull Pompey 'twere a skorne,
That he no preiudice hath borne
Amongst the rest, in ciuill strife,
Nor bard so much as of his wife.
But thou meane while shalt liue secure
From perils that the rest indure.
And safer then great Kings can bee;
For being thus remou'd from me,
Fortune shall neuer thee perplex
With those great cares that must me vex.
But if the Gods will haue it so,
That we be conquerd by our foe;
My best part yet shall safe remaine.
Or if the fates doe me constraine
The cruell victors force to shunne;
Then know I whither safe to runne.
The grieued dame waxt faint and pale
When she had heard this heauy tale.
Her sences rapted in a sound,
Sorrow a while did her confound:
Vntill her voyce was come againe,
And then did murmuring thus complaine.
No cause (deere Pompey) I doe finde,
To thinke the Fates, or Gods vnkinde,
For wronging of our nuptiall bed:
Our liues haue happily beene led.
Death doth not separate our loue,
Nor funerals need we to proue.
But that now (as the common sort)
I should be held from my consort.
And like the base Plebeian rout,
From thee I should be so cast out
It grieues my soule; what must our foe
With his approch worke me such woe?
Thy father-in-law we honor doe
To breake this league betwixt vs two.
VVhat, is the loue that I haue showne
To Pompey, yet no better knowne?
208
As thy deere selfe is vnto mee?
Haue not we still, with mutuall hearts,
Withstood all scornes, and Fortunes thwarts?
And wilt thou cruell now me leaue,
And (sep'rate from thee) so bequeaue
My carefull head to ruines state,
And to a thundring fearefull Fate?
Thinkst thou, thou dost my life protect,
Whil'st my desire thou dost reiect?
As though to me a harme it were,
With thee in perils part to beare.
No, no; for whilst I draw my breath,
I'le follow thee vnto the death.
And after thee so long surviue,
Vntill the heauy fame arriue
Vpon this farre remoued shore;
But after that will liue no more.
Meane while thou dost but me inure
To Destinies, and to endure.
O pardon me (confesse I must)
In this I feare my strength to trust.
But if my prayers may take place,
Or that the Gods doe rue my case,
Let thy poore wife know last of all,
What euer Fortune shall befall.
For though at last thou conquest gaine,
Perplext yet shall I still remaine.
And Lesbos will hold me in awe,
Though thou thy sword with conquest draw.
For I as much shall stand in doubt,
That Cæsar being put to rout,
Will (flying in a desp'rate case)
Surprise me in this strengthlesse place.
This coast will now bee more of fame,
So honor'd with my noble name:
Who will not know that place the while,
Where Pompey's wife liues in exile?
For euery one when serues the winde,
The way to Mitelen will finde.
209
If thou in battaile be distrest,
And that thy conquer'd Armes thou leaue
And safety must by flight receaue:
If thou thy selfe to seas bequeaue;
O let thy lucklesse vessell striue,
On any shore first to arriue,
Then on this coast to seeke reliefe;
Such meeting would encrease our griefe.
Thus said, as one distract with dread,
Inrag'd she leaues her loathed bed,
And her prouides to haste away,
Impatient of her griefes delay.
Her Pompey (ere she left the place)
She did not kisse with sweet embrace:
Nor yet her armes she euer twinde
About his necke, with fauours kinde,
So to relieue his grieued minde.
So quail'd the last fruit of that loue,
Which they before so long did proue.
Outragiously they both lament,
Their streaming teares their bosomes drent.
And neither of them had the heart
To say, Farewell, when they should part.
Neuer had they in all their life,
Endured such a storme of strife.
All other harmes that could betide,
With constant mindes they did abide.
The haplesse dame the place doth leaue,
And then her traine did her receaue.
And to the seas doe her conuay,
Where on the sands she prostrate lay,
And to the bankes she clinged fast,
But her aboord they bare at last.
They did not with such heauy plight,
At that time leaue their Countries sight,
Nor from Hesperian coast depart
When Cæsars Armes did make them start;
Great Pompeys faithfull wife doth this
Forsake her Lord without a kisse:
210
But both of them doe part in moane.
When night approch't she could not sleepe,
Cold then did her long waking keepe;
Not vsd before to widdow'd bed,
From cares she could not weane her head.
Nor take her rest alone to lye,
Her husbands sides not being by.
How oft could she (but all in vaine)
When sleepe her tender eyes did straine,
With armes deceau'd, hugge and embrace
The empty bed in Pompey's place?
And now forgetfull of her flight,
Did seeke to finde her Pheare by night.
For though her feruent deere desire
Her heart and marrow sets on fire,
Yet tooke she not delight to spread
Her limbes throughout the cooling bed.
But still that side reserued free,
Fearing he should vnfurnish't be.
But oh! the Gods did not prouide
That so great ioy should her betide.
For now the fatall day drawes neere,
That she (poore soule) shall see her deere
Repaire to her with heauy cheere.
Finis Libri quinti.
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