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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 | Lvcans Pharsalia |  |
More slow then euer was his guise
Tytan did from Aurora rise,
And contrary to Natures will,
Clymes heauily the Easterne hill.
He neuer more vnwillingly
Did driue his Teeme against the skie:
And lasily hung dragging backe.
Though fiercely rapt with sweeping racke;
So prone he was to shew defect,
Vnder Ecclips his bright aspect
Doth labour now, and blacke clouds breeds,
Not such as fed his flaming steeds.
And all this was but to delay
From Thessaly the light of day.
But now Boötes with his cart,
Drawes on darke night, the latest part
Of woefull Pompeys happy life;
Whom pleasing dreames so free from strife
Did entertaine, and fained showes
His troubled thoughts did interpose.
It seemed in this dreaming fit,
That he with stately pompe did sit,
In that Theatre he did frame
At Rome, which carryed Pompeys name.
Thither the Romane people thrung
In multitudes, whose voices rung
With ioyfull shouts vnto the starres,
To see him safe return'd from warres.
And more to shew how they reioyce,
They clapt their hāds with thundring noyce
Euen such applauding shouts they raise,
As they did in his youthfull daies;
And with such fawning him beheld,
As when he had Sertorious queld,
That fugitiue, in armes so fierce;
And when he did with conquest pierce
The westermost Iberian pride,
And did for it in triumph ride.
Then being but a youthfull knight,
Attired in a robe sun-bright,
And in a lofty Charriot plac't,
Whom with applause the Senate grac't.
Now whether that this did portend
Of all his happinesse the end,
And as a last retraite of ioy
Did but presage future annoy;
Or that this sound reuealing sleepe
That doth our thoughts in fancies steepe,
Did with accustom'd ambages,
Expresse his fate by contraries.
All turn'd to Pompeys miseries.
Or that Romes fortune did bequeaue
To him this sight for her last leaue;
Knowing that he should neuer more
Set footing on his natiue shore.
Ye that the Camping watches keepe,
Do not breake off this pleasant sleepe,
Let not the sound of trumpets charmes,
Pierce through his eares with wars alarmes
The next night she shall haue dire rest,
And sad sights shall his soule inuest.
On both sides armed hoasts shall meete,
And raging warre each other greete.
Whence then could souldiers free frō care
Such sound sleeps, and such sweet rest share
O happy would that day haue beene
If thy Rome so could thee haue seene.
O Pompey would the Gods of heauen
That one desired day had giuen
Vnto thy country, and to thee,
Of eithers fate assur'd to bee!
Whereby you mutuallie might proue
The latest fruits of your deare loue.
Thou Pompey to the warres didst wend,
As though thy daies in Rome should end.
And Rome, that knew her conscience cleare,
(Tender of thee, to her vowes deare)
Did neuer thinke that foule offence
Had with the Fates hung in suspence,
That Rome should not the fortune haue
To giue her Pompeys bones their graue.
For then would youths, and aged sires,
Vnbidden boyes with selfe desires,
Haue mingled howling plaints with teares,
The Matrones with disheueled haires,
And virgins would their brests haue torne;
Euen as the people then did mourne,
When Brutus was laid in his vrne.
And now although they feare the hand
Of him, that doth the victor stand,
Though Cæsars selfe should first relate
The newes of Pompeys wretched fate,
Yet would they not forbeare to mourne,
Whilst Cæsar were in triumph borne;
And that the incense burning were,
And that to Ioue they Bayes did beare.
O wretched Citizens that hate
The plaints of your owne greeued Fate!
Because all could not with one haile
In full Theatre him bewaile.
Tytan did from Aurora rise,
And contrary to Natures will,
Clymes heauily the Easterne hill.
259
Did driue his Teeme against the skie:
And lasily hung dragging backe.
Though fiercely rapt with sweeping racke;
So prone he was to shew defect,
Vnder Ecclips his bright aspect
Doth labour now, and blacke clouds breeds,
Not such as fed his flaming steeds.
And all this was but to delay
From Thessaly the light of day.
But now Boötes with his cart,
Drawes on darke night, the latest part
Of woefull Pompeys happy life;
Whom pleasing dreames so free from strife
Did entertaine, and fained showes
His troubled thoughts did interpose.
It seemed in this dreaming fit,
That he with stately pompe did sit,
In that Theatre he did frame
At Rome, which carryed Pompeys name.
Thither the Romane people thrung
In multitudes, whose voices rung
With ioyfull shouts vnto the starres,
To see him safe return'd from warres.
And more to shew how they reioyce,
They clapt their hāds with thundring noyce
Euen such applauding shouts they raise,
As they did in his youthfull daies;
And with such fawning him beheld,
As when he had Sertorious queld,
That fugitiue, in armes so fierce;
And when he did with conquest pierce
The westermost Iberian pride,
And did for it in triumph ride.
Then being but a youthfull knight,
Attired in a robe sun-bright,
And in a lofty Charriot plac't,
Whom with applause the Senate grac't.
Now whether that this did portend
Of all his happinesse the end,
260
Did but presage future annoy;
Or that this sound reuealing sleepe
That doth our thoughts in fancies steepe,
Did with accustom'd ambages,
Expresse his fate by contraries.
All turn'd to Pompeys miseries.
Or that Romes fortune did bequeaue
To him this sight for her last leaue;
Knowing that he should neuer more
Set footing on his natiue shore.
Ye that the Camping watches keepe,
Do not breake off this pleasant sleepe,
Let not the sound of trumpets charmes,
Pierce through his eares with wars alarmes
The next night she shall haue dire rest,
And sad sights shall his soule inuest.
On both sides armed hoasts shall meete,
And raging warre each other greete.
Whence then could souldiers free frō care
Such sound sleeps, and such sweet rest share
O happy would that day haue beene
If thy Rome so could thee haue seene.
O Pompey would the Gods of heauen
That one desired day had giuen
Vnto thy country, and to thee,
Of eithers fate assur'd to bee!
Whereby you mutuallie might proue
The latest fruits of your deare loue.
Thou Pompey to the warres didst wend,
As though thy daies in Rome should end.
And Rome, that knew her conscience cleare,
(Tender of thee, to her vowes deare)
Did neuer thinke that foule offence
Had with the Fates hung in suspence,
That Rome should not the fortune haue
To giue her Pompeys bones their graue.
For then would youths, and aged sires,
Vnbidden boyes with selfe desires,
Haue mingled howling plaints with teares,
261
And virgins would their brests haue torne;
Euen as the people then did mourne,
When Brutus was laid in his vrne.
And now although they feare the hand
Of him, that doth the victor stand,
Though Cæsars selfe should first relate
The newes of Pompeys wretched fate,
Yet would they not forbeare to mourne,
Whilst Cæsar were in triumph borne;
And that the incense burning were,
And that to Ioue they Bayes did beare.
O wretched Citizens that hate
The plaints of your owne greeued Fate!
Because all could not with one haile
In full Theatre him bewaile.
Now Hesprus wiih his dauning day
Had banisht the nights lamps away,
When in the Tents through all the rout
A secret murmuring burst out,
Where fate had drawne the world together
The wretched people trooping thither
To Pompeys tent, with furie driuen
Would haue the signe of battell giuen;
The most not like to see next euen.
And with huge cries the houres they hast,
Of their neare deaths that drew on fast.
Such direfull sudden rage them bends,
Headlong to runne vnto their ends.
Pompey is slow and coward cal'd,
And vnto Cæsar too much thral'd.
And that he kingdome did affect,
And would the world to him subiect.
Who seeing now that he could draw
So many nations to his law,
Would still his glorious powre maintaine,
And therefore did all peace disdaine.
The Kings and Nations of the East,
Complain'd the warre was turn'd to ieast;
And so protracted to their wrong,
Who from their homes were held so long.
O heauenly powres such is your wills,
When you designe ought to our ills!
And all with vs shall go awry,
The blame on our owne faults must lie.
To mischiefe headlong run they all,
For dismall fight they cry and call.
In Pompeys campe Pharsalias fate,
Is vow'd to trie this dire debate.
Then Tullius that patron great
Of Roman eloquence; must treate
In all their names; he that of yore,
In his long robe did Rome restore
To setled peace; and to the law
Brought dreadfull Catiline in awe.
But then did he the warres detest.
Onely with him was in request
The Forum, and the Rostrum seate,
Long silenced with martiall heate.
His eloquence no grace doth adde
Vnto a cause in it selfe badde.
Had banisht the nights lamps away,
When in the Tents through all the rout
A secret murmuring burst out,
Where fate had drawne the world together
The wretched people trooping thither
To Pompeys tent, with furie driuen
Would haue the signe of battell giuen;
The most not like to see next euen.
And with huge cries the houres they hast,
Of their neare deaths that drew on fast.
Such direfull sudden rage them bends,
Headlong to runne vnto their ends.
Pompey is slow and coward cal'd,
And vnto Cæsar too much thral'd.
And that he kingdome did affect,
And would the world to him subiect.
Who seeing now that he could draw
So many nations to his law,
Would still his glorious powre maintaine,
And therefore did all peace disdaine.
The Kings and Nations of the East,
Complain'd the warre was turn'd to ieast;
And so protracted to their wrong,
262
O heauenly powres such is your wills,
When you designe ought to our ills!
And all with vs shall go awry,
The blame on our owne faults must lie.
To mischiefe headlong run they all,
For dismall fight they cry and call.
In Pompeys campe Pharsalias fate,
Is vow'd to trie this dire debate.
Then Tullius that patron great
Of Roman eloquence; must treate
In all their names; he that of yore,
In his long robe did Rome restore
To setled peace; and to the law
Brought dreadfull Catiline in awe.
But then did he the warres detest.
Onely with him was in request
The Forum, and the Rostrum seate,
Long silenced with martiall heate.
His eloquence no grace doth adde
Vnto a cause in it selfe badde.
O Pompey, for her fauours great,
At thy hands Fortune doth intreate,
That thou to her thy trust commend.
The nobles that thy Campe attend,
And all these kings, thy constant friends,
That to thy aide their forces lends,
Do now beseech thee to agree
That Cæsar may subdued be.
Shall he solong haue meanes to finde
A bloody warre with all mankinde?
The nations that thy selfe hath wonne,
And didst so quickly ouerrun,
VVill Pompeys glory disauow,
That is so slow in conquest now.
VVhither is thy braue courage fled,
Vngratefull dost thou stand in dread,
That heauen hath thee abandoned?
Or with the Gods dar'st thou not trust
The Senate, and thy cause so iust?
Thy Hoast their ensignes will display
And giue the foe a bloudy day:
Vnto thy glory 'twere a taint
That thou shouldst vanquish by constraint:
Since thou by vs appointed art
The Chiefetaine, and for vs dost Mart.
Let it bee lawfull for our Host
To warre when we affect it most.
Why dost thou so by force hold backe
The whole worlds Armes frō Cæsars wrack?
The darts do brandle in their hands,
And all the troopes impatient stands
Whilst Ensignes do draw out the bands.
Hast therefore now thy Armes to take,
Lest thine owne Trumpets thee forsake.
The Senate craues to know of thee
Whether that they thy Souldiers bee:
Or whether they do in this Mart
As thy compeeres retaine their part.
Sighing the Cheifetaine sorrow showes,
Hee found the Gods became his foes,
And Fate did his entents oppose.
At thy hands Fortune doth intreate,
That thou to her thy trust commend.
The nobles that thy Campe attend,
And all these kings, thy constant friends,
That to thy aide their forces lends,
Do now beseech thee to agree
That Cæsar may subdued be.
Shall he solong haue meanes to finde
A bloody warre with all mankinde?
The nations that thy selfe hath wonne,
And didst so quickly ouerrun,
VVill Pompeys glory disauow,
That is so slow in conquest now.
VVhither is thy braue courage fled,
Vngratefull dost thou stand in dread,
That heauen hath thee abandoned?
Or with the Gods dar'st thou not trust
The Senate, and thy cause so iust?
263
And giue the foe a bloudy day:
Vnto thy glory 'twere a taint
That thou shouldst vanquish by constraint:
Since thou by vs appointed art
The Chiefetaine, and for vs dost Mart.
Let it bee lawfull for our Host
To warre when we affect it most.
Why dost thou so by force hold backe
The whole worlds Armes frō Cæsars wrack?
The darts do brandle in their hands,
And all the troopes impatient stands
Whilst Ensignes do draw out the bands.
Hast therefore now thy Armes to take,
Lest thine owne Trumpets thee forsake.
The Senate craues to know of thee
Whether that they thy Souldiers bee:
Or whether they do in this Mart
As thy compeeres retaine their part.
Sighing the Cheifetaine sorrow showes,
Hee found the Gods became his foes,
And Fate did his entents oppose.
If such, quoth hee, bee your desires,
And that this time rather requires
Huge troopes, and many an armed band,
Then such a leader as will stand
Vpon aduantage, when hee may,
I neuer will your fates delay.
Let all to ruin head-long goe,
By Fortunes hand at one dire blow.
And let this day the last light bee
That most of vs shall euer see.
But Rome I thee to witnesse call,
That Pompey cannot do with all,
The time to him appointed was
Wherein all should to mischiefe passe.
This war might well haue ben made good,
Without a blow, or losse of bloud
Cæsar might haue beene captiued,
Without a battell hazarded,
And wonted peace recouered.
What wicked rage (ô yee most blinde)
Makes you to be of this strange minde?
That since you ciuill armes do beare,
Is victory to you a feare,
Except you rauing wound and teare?
Our foes haue now but little scope,
And are bereft all marine hope.
We haue compel'd the hungry bands
To eate the greene corne of the lands.
And they haue often wisht withall,
That they vpon our swords might fall.
Rather then this to starue and wither,
So we and they might fall together.
That warre is neare brought to his last,
And al' the difficulty past.
When to auoyde a greater fright,
New souldiers shall desire to fight.
And with the spurre of valours showes,
And kindled furie couet blowes,
For feare of future worser harmes,
The minds of many so much charmes.
That to preuent what they suspect,
All present hazards they neglect.
But truly valiant is that man,
That with a setled patience can,
Approaching perils so resist,
As to defer them at his list.
Must I leaue such securitie
To Fortunes mutabilitie?
The whole worlds hap must we afford,
Vnto the hazard of the sword?
You rather I should hazard fight
Then conquer foes by martiall slight,
Fortune committed to my cares
The gouernment of Romes affaires,
And I deliuer to her charge
The same againe with powre more large,
Let her as well now play her part,
And guard them safe in blinded Mart.
For in this course all praise or blame
Pompey for his part doth disclaime.
O Cæsar! with the powers diuine
Thy prayers more preuaile then mine.
Fight when you please, and fall to Armes;
But yet how many wicked harmes,
How great and many peoples wrackes
Will this next day bring on our backes?
How many Kings will shed their blood?
And how will Enipheus flood
Her Chrystall streames pollute and staine
With purple gore of Romans slaine?
But first I wish the hostile lance
Of bloudy warre, with deaths mischance,
Might pierce this wretched head of mine,
If that my fate might bring to fine
These ruines, and with it divart
All mischiefes from my Countries part.
The conquest if we do obtaine,
Cannot to Pompey's fame adde gaine.
If victory for vs do stand
By slaughter, and by bloudy hand,
The peoples hearts it will agrise,
And odiously my name misprise.
Or if that Pompey loose the game,
Pompey will be a wretched name.
All miseries the conquer'd finde,
But blame and mallice stil's assign'd
Vnto the victor as his share,
That acts the warres last wofull chare.
So hauing said, he did giue way
To Armes, and Souldiers raging sway:
As doth a Pilot sore distrest
VVith a strong tempest, blowne by west;
Leauing the helme, and leauing Art,
Doth to the storme all rule impart;
VVhereby the ship doth heaue and set,
Drawne with the fury of the fret.
Now in confusion doth this Campe
VVith fearefull tumults raue and rampe,
Their minds with horrid thoughts opprest,
Vnconstant moods boyle in their breast.
Many with pallid lookes bewray
Of deaths approch the dismall day,
And in their faces doe relate
A count'nance suiting to their fate:
And that the houre drew on with speed,
When humane chance should be decreed.
And in what tearms Romes state should stand,
Must in this battaile now be scan'd.
No man his perils deemes aright,
But greater doubts doe them affright.
For who is hee that sees the maine
With surges swallow vp the plaine,
The highest mountaines ouerflowne
With billowes from the Ocean blowne,
The skies and Phœbus blazing crowne
Vnto the earth come tumbling downe,
In such a publicke wracke each where
Would of his priuate stand in feare?
No man had leasure now to dread
The harmes that hanged ore his head,
Romes destiny, and Pompeys fall,
Was it that did distract them all.
And that this time rather requires
Huge troopes, and many an armed band,
Then such a leader as will stand
Vpon aduantage, when hee may,
I neuer will your fates delay.
Let all to ruin head-long goe,
By Fortunes hand at one dire blow.
And let this day the last light bee
That most of vs shall euer see.
But Rome I thee to witnesse call,
That Pompey cannot do with all,
The time to him appointed was
Wherein all should to mischiefe passe.
This war might well haue ben made good,
Without a blow, or losse of bloud
Cæsar might haue beene captiued,
Without a battell hazarded,
264
What wicked rage (ô yee most blinde)
Makes you to be of this strange minde?
That since you ciuill armes do beare,
Is victory to you a feare,
Except you rauing wound and teare?
Our foes haue now but little scope,
And are bereft all marine hope.
We haue compel'd the hungry bands
To eate the greene corne of the lands.
And they haue often wisht withall,
That they vpon our swords might fall.
Rather then this to starue and wither,
So we and they might fall together.
That warre is neare brought to his last,
And al' the difficulty past.
When to auoyde a greater fright,
New souldiers shall desire to fight.
And with the spurre of valours showes,
And kindled furie couet blowes,
For feare of future worser harmes,
The minds of many so much charmes.
That to preuent what they suspect,
All present hazards they neglect.
But truly valiant is that man,
That with a setled patience can,
Approaching perils so resist,
As to defer them at his list.
Must I leaue such securitie
To Fortunes mutabilitie?
The whole worlds hap must we afford,
Vnto the hazard of the sword?
You rather I should hazard fight
Then conquer foes by martiall slight,
Fortune committed to my cares
The gouernment of Romes affaires,
And I deliuer to her charge
The same againe with powre more large,
Let her as well now play her part,
And guard them safe in blinded Mart.
265
Pompey for his part doth disclaime.
O Cæsar! with the powers diuine
Thy prayers more preuaile then mine.
Fight when you please, and fall to Armes;
But yet how many wicked harmes,
How great and many peoples wrackes
Will this next day bring on our backes?
How many Kings will shed their blood?
And how will Enipheus flood
Her Chrystall streames pollute and staine
With purple gore of Romans slaine?
But first I wish the hostile lance
Of bloudy warre, with deaths mischance,
Might pierce this wretched head of mine,
If that my fate might bring to fine
These ruines, and with it divart
All mischiefes from my Countries part.
The conquest if we do obtaine,
Cannot to Pompey's fame adde gaine.
If victory for vs do stand
By slaughter, and by bloudy hand,
The peoples hearts it will agrise,
And odiously my name misprise.
Or if that Pompey loose the game,
Pompey will be a wretched name.
All miseries the conquer'd finde,
But blame and mallice stil's assign'd
Vnto the victor as his share,
That acts the warres last wofull chare.
So hauing said, he did giue way
To Armes, and Souldiers raging sway:
As doth a Pilot sore distrest
VVith a strong tempest, blowne by west;
Leauing the helme, and leauing Art,
Doth to the storme all rule impart;
VVhereby the ship doth heaue and set,
Drawne with the fury of the fret.
Now in confusion doth this Campe
VVith fearefull tumults raue and rampe,
266
Vnconstant moods boyle in their breast.
Many with pallid lookes bewray
Of deaths approch the dismall day,
And in their faces doe relate
A count'nance suiting to their fate:
And that the houre drew on with speed,
When humane chance should be decreed.
And in what tearms Romes state should stand,
Must in this battaile now be scan'd.
No man his perils deemes aright,
But greater doubts doe them affright.
For who is hee that sees the maine
With surges swallow vp the plaine,
The highest mountaines ouerflowne
With billowes from the Ocean blowne,
The skies and Phœbus blazing crowne
Vnto the earth come tumbling downe,
In such a publicke wracke each where
Would of his priuate stand in feare?
No man had leasure now to dread
The harmes that hanged ore his head,
Romes destiny, and Pompeys fall,
Was it that did distract them all.
Vnto their swords they put no trust,
Except new ground and scour'd from rust;
Their darts are sharpned at the end,
With stronger strings their bowes they bend.
Their quiuers also stored full
With choycest shafts that they could cull.
The rowels of the horse-mens spurre
Enlarg'd, to make his courser sturre.
If it were lawfull to compare
Mans labours with the supreame care,
So Mars did grinde his fauchion
Vpon the rough Cycilian stone;
When the Phlegrean Gyants fierce
Did make attempt the skies to pierce,
So Neptune his three-forked mace
With fiery temper did enchase,
And Pæan so new steel'd againe
His shafts, when he had Python slaine.
So Pallas furbusht vp her Targe
VVith Gorgons head, and lockes at large.
And so to chastise those reuolts,
Vulcan then chang'd Ioues thunder-bolts.
Except new ground and scour'd from rust;
Their darts are sharpned at the end,
With stronger strings their bowes they bend.
Their quiuers also stored full
With choycest shafts that they could cull.
The rowels of the horse-mens spurre
Enlarg'd, to make his courser sturre.
If it were lawfull to compare
Mans labours with the supreame care,
So Mars did grinde his fauchion
Vpon the rough Cycilian stone;
When the Phlegrean Gyants fierce
Did make attempt the skies to pierce,
So Neptune his three-forked mace
With fiery temper did enchase,
267
His shafts, when he had Python slaine.
So Pallas furbusht vp her Targe
VVith Gorgons head, and lockes at large.
And so to chastise those reuolts,
Vulcan then chang'd Ioues thunder-bolts.
Nature did not that time refraine
By many signes to shew most plaine
The fearefull accidents at hand,
The skies the armed troopes withstand,
Marching to the Pharsalian land.
The tearing clouds with thunder-claps
The Souldiers on their faces raps;
Contrary flames, and pillars bright
Of scorching fire, did them affright.
Typhons commixt with sparkling beames,
That did affect the water streames,
Brake out withall; and lightning flashes
Dazled their eyes with findging dashes;
From off their helmes it strake the crests,
And from the blades the hilts it wrests:
It also melts the headed Pile,
The sulfrie aire rusts murdring steele.
The swarming bees in clustred flights,
By heapes vpon their Ensignes lights;
So as the Ensigne-bearers might
Could not from ground raise them vpright,
The weight thereof was growne so dead,
It made them bow both backe and head.
Their publique Standards in a swet,
And Roman Ægles weeping wet,
VVhilst forward to the field they set.
The Bull brought for the sacrifice,
VVith fury from the Altar flies;
And running head-long, himselfe cast
Into Emathias field at last.
So as no offring could be found
To expiate that lucklesse ground.
By many signes to shew most plaine
The fearefull accidents at hand,
The skies the armed troopes withstand,
Marching to the Pharsalian land.
The tearing clouds with thunder-claps
The Souldiers on their faces raps;
Contrary flames, and pillars bright
Of scorching fire, did them affright.
Typhons commixt with sparkling beames,
That did affect the water streames,
Brake out withall; and lightning flashes
Dazled their eyes with findging dashes;
From off their helmes it strake the crests,
And from the blades the hilts it wrests:
It also melts the headed Pile,
The sulfrie aire rusts murdring steele.
The swarming bees in clustred flights,
By heapes vpon their Ensignes lights;
So as the Ensigne-bearers might
Could not from ground raise them vpright,
The weight thereof was growne so dead,
It made them bow both backe and head.
Their publique Standards in a swet,
And Roman Ægles weeping wet,
VVhilst forward to the field they set.
The Bull brought for the sacrifice,
VVith fury from the Altar flies;
And running head-long, himselfe cast
Into Emathias field at last.
So as no offring could be found
To expiate that lucklesse ground.
But what malignant Deities,
And Furies of impieties
O Cæsar hast thou cal'd vpon?
What power of Stygian Region?
What wicked damn'd infernall sprights,
That range about in gloomy nights,
Hath stir'd thee vp, and whet thy rage
This odious wicked warre to wage?
But now this doubt againe doth rise,
Whether that feare abus'd their eyes,
Or that these monstrous visions seene,
Of Gods the Reuelations beene:
For many thought they did behold
How Pindus to Olympus rold,
And that mount Æmus that same houre
A gaping velley did deuoure.
And that throughout Pharsalia's ground
Strange howlings did by night resound.
That streames of bloud by Ossa's hill
Did to Bœbeida's lake distill.
That they beheld in darke shades vail'd,
How men with force their foes assail'd.
The day pale dimnesse ouer-whelmes,
Darke shades likewise incloud their helmes,
Their parents buried ghosts did rise,
And fluttring doe accost their eyes:
But this one comfort did remaine
To ease them in perplexed paine,
That those who with a guilty minde,
Did hope the wicked meanes to finde,
Their aged fathers throats to cut,
And in their brothers blood to glut;
Reioyced at the monstrous sights
That with such horror maz'd mens sprights:
And hop't these suddaine furies rage,
Did vnto them successe presage.
But why should it seeme strange at all,
That those for whom death now did call,
Should changes feele as life growes slacke,
And trembling fits of natures wracke?
If to the minde of man be giuen
Knowledge of future things to steeuen,
The guest that wonnes in Tyrian Gades,
The Roman that Armenia trades:
And those that vnder any clime
Of all the world liu'd at that time
Did grieue, and yet wist no cause why,
And tooke their griefes offensiuely;
But little knew what they should lose
At these Emathian fatall blowes.
And Furies of impieties
268
What power of Stygian Region?
What wicked damn'd infernall sprights,
That range about in gloomy nights,
Hath stir'd thee vp, and whet thy rage
This odious wicked warre to wage?
But now this doubt againe doth rise,
Whether that feare abus'd their eyes,
Or that these monstrous visions seene,
Of Gods the Reuelations beene:
For many thought they did behold
How Pindus to Olympus rold,
And that mount Æmus that same houre
A gaping velley did deuoure.
And that throughout Pharsalia's ground
Strange howlings did by night resound.
That streames of bloud by Ossa's hill
Did to Bœbeida's lake distill.
That they beheld in darke shades vail'd,
How men with force their foes assail'd.
The day pale dimnesse ouer-whelmes,
Darke shades likewise incloud their helmes,
Their parents buried ghosts did rise,
And fluttring doe accost their eyes:
But this one comfort did remaine
To ease them in perplexed paine,
That those who with a guilty minde,
Did hope the wicked meanes to finde,
Their aged fathers throats to cut,
And in their brothers blood to glut;
Reioyced at the monstrous sights
That with such horror maz'd mens sprights:
And hop't these suddaine furies rage,
Did vnto them successe presage.
But why should it seeme strange at all,
That those for whom death now did call,
Should changes feele as life growes slacke,
And trembling fits of natures wracke?
If to the minde of man be giuen
Knowledge of future things to steeuen,
269
The Roman that Armenia trades:
And those that vnder any clime
Of all the world liu'd at that time
Did grieue, and yet wist no cause why,
And tooke their griefes offensiuely;
But little knew what they should lose
At these Emathian fatall blowes.
If old Records we credit may,
Vpon Euganeo's hill they say,
An Augure sitting neere those streames
Where Aponus breath-reeking steames
Do rise, and spread their springs abrode,
And in Timavas flood vnlode,
Where was Antenors first abode.
Now comes (this Augure then did say)
A great and lamentable day,
The mightest things of humane state,
Are like forth-with to haue their date;
Pompeys and Cæsars wicked Armes
Will now rush on to ciuill harmes.
But whether that the thunders rage,
And Ioues dire darts did thus presage:
Or that he gazing on the skies,
The heauens discordant humor spies;
Or that the sad duskt firmament
Did note to him this daies euent
By dimnesse of th' eclipsed sunne,
That was with darknesse ouer-runne.
Nature in this dayes forme exprest
Such difference from all the rest,
As that if men did vnderstand
(As did this Augure) to haue scan'd
And well obseru'd the nouell change
Of heauenly signes, how they did range,
Then all the world might plaine haue seene
(As well as hee) Pharsalia's teene.
O worthy wights by Fate reseru'd,
Of all the world to be obseru'd,
Whose destinies to bring to end
The whole heauens leasure did intend!
If after ages heare the same,
And to our Nephewes come their fame;
Or if to men of great estate
Our labours care Time shall relate,
So as their mindes it recreate;
When as these ciuill warres they read,
It will provoke both hope and dread,
And draw such wishes from their thought
As shall be lost, and profite nought.
For reading, they will be distracted,
As though these were not matters acted;
But as if they were strifes depending,
Whose Fates as yet had not their ending,
And all that while wish from their heart
The best successe to Pompeys part.
Vpon Euganeo's hill they say,
An Augure sitting neere those streames
Where Aponus breath-reeking steames
Do rise, and spread their springs abrode,
And in Timavas flood vnlode,
Where was Antenors first abode.
Now comes (this Augure then did say)
A great and lamentable day,
The mightest things of humane state,
Are like forth-with to haue their date;
Pompeys and Cæsars wicked Armes
Will now rush on to ciuill harmes.
But whether that the thunders rage,
And Ioues dire darts did thus presage:
Or that he gazing on the skies,
The heauens discordant humor spies;
Or that the sad duskt firmament
Did note to him this daies euent
By dimnesse of th' eclipsed sunne,
That was with darknesse ouer-runne.
Nature in this dayes forme exprest
Such difference from all the rest,
As that if men did vnderstand
(As did this Augure) to haue scan'd
And well obseru'd the nouell change
Of heauenly signes, how they did range,
Then all the world might plaine haue seene
(As well as hee) Pharsalia's teene.
O worthy wights by Fate reseru'd,
Of all the world to be obseru'd,
Whose destinies to bring to end
270
If after ages heare the same,
And to our Nephewes come their fame;
Or if to men of great estate
Our labours care Time shall relate,
So as their mindes it recreate;
When as these ciuill warres they read,
It will provoke both hope and dread,
And draw such wishes from their thought
As shall be lost, and profite nought.
For reading, they will be distracted,
As though these were not matters acted;
But as if they were strifes depending,
Whose Fates as yet had not their ending,
And all that while wish from their heart
The best successe to Pompeys part.
As soone as Pompey's armed bands
March't towards the Pharsalian lands,
The shining Sunne-beames bright aspect
Against their armours did reflect;
So as the valleyes and the hilles
All round about with light it filles.
They did not rashly take the field,
The haplesse Army order held;
And Lentulus had for his part
The ordring of the left wings Mart,
And those two Legions therewithall
That of the Campe was principall,
The first and fourth they did them call.
And vnto thee Domitius stout,
Was giuen in charge the right wings rout;
All-be-it with vnlucky hand
Thou for thy Countries cause didst stand.
The middle battaile strong compact,
With thick rang'd troops that were extract
Out of the Cilician hoast,
That came with Scipio from that coast:
Who heere held but a Souldiers place,
Though Affrick after did him grace
As chiefe Commander in the field,
The mountaine Capadocians held,
Their Cohorts rang'd in ordred rankes
On Empheus riuers bankes;
And with them all alongst that flood
That Pontus large-rain'd horse-men stood:
In most of all the drier lands
The Kings and Tetrarchs Army stands;
And with them all the Princely swarmes,
And Tyrants with their troopes of Armes,
That to the Romans homage ought,
And now in Latiums quarrell fought.
There likewise the Numidians meet,
And those Cydonians sent from Creet;
The Archers from Iturea prest,
There mingled stood amongst the rest.
And valiant Gaules were there to show
Their mallice to their ancient foe.
The Spaniards with their narrow shields,
Did range their troopes amidst those fields.
O Destiny now take away
These Nations from the victors pray;
And when great Pompey is laid low,
Consume all triumphes at that blow!
March't towards the Pharsalian lands,
The shining Sunne-beames bright aspect
Against their armours did reflect;
So as the valleyes and the hilles
All round about with light it filles.
They did not rashly take the field,
The haplesse Army order held;
And Lentulus had for his part
The ordring of the left wings Mart,
And those two Legions therewithall
That of the Campe was principall,
The first and fourth they did them call.
And vnto thee Domitius stout,
Was giuen in charge the right wings rout;
All-be-it with vnlucky hand
Thou for thy Countries cause didst stand.
The middle battaile strong compact,
With thick rang'd troops that were extract
Out of the Cilician hoast,
That came with Scipio from that coast:
Who heere held but a Souldiers place,
Though Affrick after did him grace
As chiefe Commander in the field,
271
Their Cohorts rang'd in ordred rankes
On Empheus riuers bankes;
And with them all alongst that flood
That Pontus large-rain'd horse-men stood:
In most of all the drier lands
The Kings and Tetrarchs Army stands;
And with them all the Princely swarmes,
And Tyrants with their troopes of Armes,
That to the Romans homage ought,
And now in Latiums quarrell fought.
There likewise the Numidians meet,
And those Cydonians sent from Creet;
The Archers from Iturea prest,
There mingled stood amongst the rest.
And valiant Gaules were there to show
Their mallice to their ancient foe.
The Spaniards with their narrow shields,
Did range their troopes amidst those fields.
O Destiny now take away
These Nations from the victors pray;
And when great Pompey is laid low,
Consume all triumphes at that blow!
This day (as it fell out by chance)
Cæsar his Ensignes did aduance,
And left his station in the morne,
Ranging the coast to gather corne
With all his troopes; when suddainly
He saw the armed enemy
Marching alongst the Champian plaine,
As he would battaile entertaine.
The time he now sees offred faire
For which he had made many a praire;
Whereby he might (at once for all)
Vnto an end this quarrell call.
He mourn'd these long delayes to bide
Rauisht with loue of Regall pride:
And ciuill warres began to hate,
As too slow drawing to their date;
Because he had this little time
Beene held off from this bloudy crime.
For now he plainly did descry
The hazards of them both drew nye;
And saw the ruine of their states
Must be committed vnto Fates.
His fury now did ready stand
His conquering Armes to take in hand;
He no whit faints, nor makes a doubt
Which way the world would turne about:
His daring minde told him no lesse,
But that he should haue good successe.
His Fate to dread affoords no scope,
Nor Pompeys nourisht any hope.
Feare laid aside, with manly words
He stirres his troopes to trust their swords.
Cæsar his Ensignes did aduance,
And left his station in the morne,
Ranging the coast to gather corne
With all his troopes; when suddainly
He saw the armed enemy
Marching alongst the Champian plaine,
As he would battaile entertaine.
The time he now sees offred faire
For which he had made many a praire;
Whereby he might (at once for all)
Vnto an end this quarrell call.
He mourn'd these long delayes to bide
Rauisht with loue of Regall pride:
And ciuill warres began to hate,
As too slow drawing to their date;
Because he had this little time
272
For now he plainly did descry
The hazards of them both drew nye;
And saw the ruine of their states
Must be committed vnto Fates.
His fury now did ready stand
His conquering Armes to take in hand;
He no whit faints, nor makes a doubt
Which way the world would turne about:
His daring minde told him no lesse,
But that he should haue good successe.
His Fate to dread affoords no scope,
Nor Pompeys nourisht any hope.
Feare laid aside, with manly words
He stirres his troopes to trust their swords.
Braue Souldiers that the world do tame,
The fortune of my rising fame,
Behold that long-desired sight
To yeeld you meanes to come to fight:
For that day need you wish no more,
With your owne Armes your fates explore,
It now doth rest vpon your hands,
In what tearmes Cæsars fortune stands.
This is the day I call to minde
That you to me your faiths combin'd;
In trust whereof we Armes put on,
And marched ouer Rubicon:
In hope that by your martiall might
We should obtaine our Triumphes right,
With-held from vs with such despight.
This is that day whose ended broyles
Shall fully recompence your toyles;
And shall againe your states restore,
And you establish as before
Free Citizens, by force of Mart
This day shall witnesse whether part
By Fates iust doome, had best pretence
To take vp Armes for rights defence.
This battaile now will him conclude
As heynous most that is subdu'd.
If for my sake you did desire
To yeeld me right by sword and fire,
Now valiantly performe the same,
Let conquest free your Armes from blame.
No martiall hand can guiltlesse goe,
That shall be censur'd by the foe.
'Tis not my Priuate that I seeke,
But all your liberties a like;
And that you may dominion beare
Ouer all Nations farre and neare:
For I affect a private life,
Free from tempestious cares and strife.
And as a Burger of Romes Towne,
Clad in a meane Plebeian gowne;
I nothing will refuse to bee
So your aduancements I may see,
Rule all and raigne in scorne of me.
Much bloud you shall not need to spend
For that great hope that yee attend:
The Grecian youths that vs oppose,
Out of the Fencing-schooles they chose:
And many from their fields of games,
Slow wrastlers whom no Mart enflames;
But such as neuer yet bore Armes,
Mixt barbrously with diffring swarmes;
Such as when troopes to fighting falles,
And Trumpets sounds to battaile calles,
Will be afraid of their owne cry;
Few hands this ciuill warre will trye.
The world will soone be rid of most
Of all that rabble in their host:
They will but pester and encumber
Our Roman foes with ill-rang'd number.
Pierce through these men that are vntrain'd,
And kingdomes that such fame retain'd:
And when your swords shal first them greet,
Throw downe their glory at your feet;
And by your valour make it plaine,
That those that in his boasting vaine,
Pompey before his Chariots lead,
(As mighty Nations vanquished)
So gloriously through streets of Rome,
Do not deserue one Triumphes doome.
Thinke you that any friendly loue
To warres, did these Armenians moue?
As though that they tooke any care
Of Romes estate, or her well-fare;
Or any those Barbarian Kings
That to these warres their forces brings,
Would now for Pompeys Latium good
Be at the cost of too much blood?
Oh no, they hate vs Romanes all,
And chiefly those that made them thrall.
Fortune, that neuer me deceau'd,
To my friends hands hath me bequeau'd,
To those with me that witnesse are
Of many fights in Gallicke warre.
What Souldiers sword doe I not know,
What trembling dart can any throw,
But whilst that through the aire it flew,
I soone could tell whose arme it threw?
So as since that I you behold
Your Captaine that led you of old,
And those braue Ensignes by you borne
That neuer yet receiued skorne,
Your manly lookes with courage fraught,
Your threatning eyes that terror brought,
The day is yours, and now me seemes
With bloudy gore that riuers steemes;
Their Kings vpon the earth are spurn'd,
The Senators lye tost and turn'd:
The leaders and the Souldiers slaine
In slaughtred troopes vpon the plaine;
But now I do my Fates delay
Your armed hands with words to stay,
Giue warres approch his owne full sway.
My heart is ouer-ioy'd with hope,
Neuer saw I like Fortunes scope
So neere my reach; neuer before
The Gods to me such bounties store
Did seeme to giue, a little ground
Doth vs from our great wishes bound:
This battaile fought I am the man
That onely by my fauour can
Freely bestow the treasur'd gold
That Kings and many people hold.
O heauens, what planets influence,
What starre this motion did commence,
That now on this Pharsalian land
So great a question should be scand!
This day there is for me prepar'd
Either great paines, or great reward.
Thinke but on Cæsars tortur'd state,
The chaines that shall him captiuate,
His head vpon the Rostrum plac't,
His members rack't, torne and defac't;
And you your selues will finde like feasts,
In pinfolds pent, slaughtred as beasts,
Since he with whom we warres maintaine,
A Captaine is of Sylla's traine:
Therefore regard your owne estates,
For me I will preuent such Fates
By vertue of my dreadlesse hand,
That at their mercy skornes to stand:
For he that this day shall not see
Vs victors of our foes to be,
Shall see this sword of mine diuorse
My breathing spirit from my Corse.
Yee Gods that from the heauens hye
Vouchsafe to bend your carefull eye
Vnto this base inferior soyle,
To looke vpon the Roman toyle.
Let him the victory obtaine
That shall from cruelty refraine;
And will not deeme it but offence,
Except in pitty he dispence
To take away the liues of those
Whom he subdues, although his foes.
Though Pompey in his cruell mood
Did glut his sword with Roman blood,
When he our troopes at vantage tooke,
Pent vp within a narrow nooke,
Who out of valor chose to dye
Rather then from their station flye.
But my braue youths I you intreate
Shew no such rigor in your heate.
Kill not a man that shunnes your eyes,
Deeme him a Citizen that flies;
But whilst their weapons they doe vse,
Let not fond pittie you abuse:
Nor be then mou'd vnto remorse,
But flat resist your parents force;
Yea on their faces turne your swords,
Whom reuerent yeares gray hairs affoords:
If any should his kinsman finde,
And in his breast his sword hath shrin'd;
Or else so deere a friend shall wound,
To whom for fauours he stands bound,
Whilst they against you shew their might,
Account your selfe from guilt acquite,
As free as if he were a foe,
That you before did neuer know.
And now throw downe your Trenches wall,
And fill the ditches therewithall,
Whereby imbattail'd as it stands,
The Army may march with full bands,
And runne not out at little coopes,
Dispersed into petty troopes:
Your owne pauillions do not spare,
For to that Campe wee marching are
From whence that Army doth discend,
Whereof we soone shall make an end.
Scarcely had Cæsar spoken all,
But each one to his charge did fall,
And suddainly they all did Arme
Throughout the campe, and took the larme.
Downe went the Trench and Tents in haste,
The troopes are not in order plac't.
According to their Chiefetaines Art,
To Fates they doe commit this Mart.
But if they all had Cæsars bin,
And such as did affect to win
The Roman Empire as their owne,
By martiall art and valour showne;
They would not then haue headlong prest
To fight a Battaile for their rest.
The fortune of my rising fame,
Behold that long-desired sight
To yeeld you meanes to come to fight:
For that day need you wish no more,
With your owne Armes your fates explore,
It now doth rest vpon your hands,
In what tearmes Cæsars fortune stands.
This is the day I call to minde
That you to me your faiths combin'd;
In trust whereof we Armes put on,
And marched ouer Rubicon:
In hope that by your martiall might
We should obtaine our Triumphes right,
With-held from vs with such despight.
This is that day whose ended broyles
Shall fully recompence your toyles;
And shall againe your states restore,
And you establish as before
Free Citizens, by force of Mart
This day shall witnesse whether part
By Fates iust doome, had best pretence
To take vp Armes for rights defence.
This battaile now will him conclude
As heynous most that is subdu'd.
273
To yeeld me right by sword and fire,
Now valiantly performe the same,
Let conquest free your Armes from blame.
No martiall hand can guiltlesse goe,
That shall be censur'd by the foe.
'Tis not my Priuate that I seeke,
But all your liberties a like;
And that you may dominion beare
Ouer all Nations farre and neare:
For I affect a private life,
Free from tempestious cares and strife.
And as a Burger of Romes Towne,
Clad in a meane Plebeian gowne;
I nothing will refuse to bee
So your aduancements I may see,
Rule all and raigne in scorne of me.
Much bloud you shall not need to spend
For that great hope that yee attend:
The Grecian youths that vs oppose,
Out of the Fencing-schooles they chose:
And many from their fields of games,
Slow wrastlers whom no Mart enflames;
But such as neuer yet bore Armes,
Mixt barbrously with diffring swarmes;
Such as when troopes to fighting falles,
And Trumpets sounds to battaile calles,
Will be afraid of their owne cry;
Few hands this ciuill warre will trye.
The world will soone be rid of most
Of all that rabble in their host:
They will but pester and encumber
Our Roman foes with ill-rang'd number.
Pierce through these men that are vntrain'd,
And kingdomes that such fame retain'd:
And when your swords shal first them greet,
Throw downe their glory at your feet;
And by your valour make it plaine,
That those that in his boasting vaine,
Pompey before his Chariots lead,
274
So gloriously through streets of Rome,
Do not deserue one Triumphes doome.
Thinke you that any friendly loue
To warres, did these Armenians moue?
As though that they tooke any care
Of Romes estate, or her well-fare;
Or any those Barbarian Kings
That to these warres their forces brings,
Would now for Pompeys Latium good
Be at the cost of too much blood?
Oh no, they hate vs Romanes all,
And chiefly those that made them thrall.
Fortune, that neuer me deceau'd,
To my friends hands hath me bequeau'd,
To those with me that witnesse are
Of many fights in Gallicke warre.
What Souldiers sword doe I not know,
What trembling dart can any throw,
But whilst that through the aire it flew,
I soone could tell whose arme it threw?
So as since that I you behold
Your Captaine that led you of old,
And those braue Ensignes by you borne
That neuer yet receiued skorne,
Your manly lookes with courage fraught,
Your threatning eyes that terror brought,
The day is yours, and now me seemes
With bloudy gore that riuers steemes;
Their Kings vpon the earth are spurn'd,
The Senators lye tost and turn'd:
The leaders and the Souldiers slaine
In slaughtred troopes vpon the plaine;
But now I do my Fates delay
Your armed hands with words to stay,
Giue warres approch his owne full sway.
My heart is ouer-ioy'd with hope,
Neuer saw I like Fortunes scope
So neere my reach; neuer before
The Gods to me such bounties store
275
Doth vs from our great wishes bound:
This battaile fought I am the man
That onely by my fauour can
Freely bestow the treasur'd gold
That Kings and many people hold.
O heauens, what planets influence,
What starre this motion did commence,
That now on this Pharsalian land
So great a question should be scand!
This day there is for me prepar'd
Either great paines, or great reward.
Thinke but on Cæsars tortur'd state,
The chaines that shall him captiuate,
His head vpon the Rostrum plac't,
His members rack't, torne and defac't;
And you your selues will finde like feasts,
In pinfolds pent, slaughtred as beasts,
Since he with whom we warres maintaine,
A Captaine is of Sylla's traine:
Therefore regard your owne estates,
For me I will preuent such Fates
By vertue of my dreadlesse hand,
That at their mercy skornes to stand:
For he that this day shall not see
Vs victors of our foes to be,
Shall see this sword of mine diuorse
My breathing spirit from my Corse.
Yee Gods that from the heauens hye
Vouchsafe to bend your carefull eye
Vnto this base inferior soyle,
To looke vpon the Roman toyle.
Let him the victory obtaine
That shall from cruelty refraine;
And will not deeme it but offence,
Except in pitty he dispence
To take away the liues of those
Whom he subdues, although his foes.
Though Pompey in his cruell mood
Did glut his sword with Roman blood,
276
Pent vp within a narrow nooke,
Who out of valor chose to dye
Rather then from their station flye.
But my braue youths I you intreate
Shew no such rigor in your heate.
Kill not a man that shunnes your eyes,
Deeme him a Citizen that flies;
But whilst their weapons they doe vse,
Let not fond pittie you abuse:
Nor be then mou'd vnto remorse,
But flat resist your parents force;
Yea on their faces turne your swords,
Whom reuerent yeares gray hairs affoords:
If any should his kinsman finde,
And in his breast his sword hath shrin'd;
Or else so deere a friend shall wound,
To whom for fauours he stands bound,
Whilst they against you shew their might,
Account your selfe from guilt acquite,
As free as if he were a foe,
That you before did neuer know.
And now throw downe your Trenches wall,
And fill the ditches therewithall,
Whereby imbattail'd as it stands,
The Army may march with full bands,
And runne not out at little coopes,
Dispersed into petty troopes:
Your owne pauillions do not spare,
For to that Campe wee marching are
From whence that Army doth discend,
Whereof we soone shall make an end.
Scarcely had Cæsar spoken all,
But each one to his charge did fall,
And suddainly they all did Arme
Throughout the campe, and took the larme.
Downe went the Trench and Tents in haste,
The troopes are not in order plac't.
According to their Chiefetaines Art,
To Fates they doe commit this Mart.
277
And such as did affect to win
The Roman Empire as their owne,
By martiall art and valour showne;
They would not then haue headlong prest
To fight a Battaile for their rest.
When Pompey saw his foes draw out,
Bending to him with all their rout,
And that the warre would no delay,
But that the Gods design'd this day.
He stood amaz'd, his heart grew cold,
The which in Armes mishap foretold,
That feare should such a captaine thrall;
Like dread did his whole host appall.
Then he a loftie horse bestrides,
And through his troops and cohorts rides,
The day (quoth he) that your braue sprights
Prest on to end all lingring fights,
Is now at hand, therefore expose
Your vtmost force against your foes.
This is the vpshot now for all,
One houre will vs together call.
He that his countries cause respects,
Or his deare houshold Gods affects;
He that his children and his wife,
And all deare pledges of his life,
Doth seeke to haue and hold againe,
Must with his sword the same obtaine.
For all is now by God prouided
In this one field to be decided.
And we must hope, that haue the right,
The heauenly powers for vs will fight;
They so will guide our weapons fierce,
That they shall Cæsars bowels pierce;
It is their wills that with his blood,
Romes sacred lawes should be made good.
Had they design'd to Cæsars fate
The world and all the Romane state,
By Destinies and their decree,
My elder yeares might shortned be.
But since the Gods by their high doome,
Both of the people and of Rome,
Haue Pompey plac't as leader chiefe,
Tis no signe of their wroth or griefe.
All means that may bring victorie,
We haue prouided seriously.
And many a Prince and noble Lord,
Our fortunes run with free accord.
The ancient bands of martiall wights,
With graue aduice on our part fights.
And if vnto our later yeares,
Fate had reseru'd those worthy peares,
The Curij, and Camilli stout,
The Decij that did make no doubt
Freely to sacrifice their blood,
Thereby to gaine their Countrie good,
All these on our side would haue stood.
The nations that are farhest East
Vnto this seruice now are prest.
And many cities of account,
So as our forces do surmount
All other armed troopes by farre,
That euer yet attempted warre:
The whole worlds strength at once we haue
The souldiers and the leaders braue,
That both the Tropicks do containe
From Southerne pole to Northerne waine.
We able are (our wings stretcht out)
To close our enemies about.
Few hands to conquer will suffise,
Our troops will dant them with their cries.
Cæsar with his bare feeble host
To fight with vs can be but lost.
Thinke that vpon Romes walls there stands,
With dangling locks, and cast vp hands,
The Roman Matrones in your sight,
Calling on you brauely to fight.
And thinke the Senate, those graue Peeres
Vnfit for Mart through aged yeeres,
Following our Campe, do at your feete
Prostrate their siluer haires with greete.
And that Romes selfe you do encounter,
Fearing a Tyrant should surmount her.
Thinke that the Romanes of these dayes,
And those that future times shall raise,
With one voyce altogether praise,
In freedome to receiue their birth,
And so returne vnto the earth.
And after these so deare respects,
If Pompey might mone your affects,
He and his children, and his spouse
Would at your feete cast selfe same vowes.
If lawfull twere reserued free,
The Empires sacred maiestie.
And lest we conquer them in fight,
Pompey is but a banisht wight.
And but his father-inlawes base scorne,
And to your shame a man forlorne.
My elder yeares I now should hate,
And longer loath to draw my date,
To bring hoare haires to seruile state.
The heauie words their captaine vsde
Hath all their minds with rage enfusde
The Romane valour it doth moue
Rather a present death to proue,
Then those suspects should true be found
That in his speech he did propound.
Then both the armies rusht together,
With equall furie shew'd by either.
Feare doth one side to courage straine,
The others hope to rule and raigne,
And now their hands do that destry
Which no age can againe supply.
Nor euer any humane paine,
Will be of powre to raise againe.
Although from armes they still refraine.
For this one onely battell day,
Will future Maurood much decay,
And will those peoples births destroy
That after worlds might else enioy.
So as the noble Latine name
Will be a by-word of defame,
The Albane and Laurentine bowres,
The Gabine, and the Veian towres,
And Coram rotted all with rust,
Will not be seene for ruines dust.
The Country voide and desolate;
So as the Senatorian state,
Vnwillingly will their remaine,
Longer then night shall them constraine.
And that to do they oft repine,
Though one of Numas lawes diuine,
But tis not age that this hath done,
Nor putrifaction ouerrun
Such mighty frames, but ciuill broyle
Hath laide such citties with the soyle.
What is become of all the store
Of humane races but of yore,
That in the world were borne and bread?
The townes are vnreplenished?
The champian vninhabited?
One citie now vs all containes,
The fields manur'd by slaues in chaines.
The mouldy howses neuer airde
With their foundations vnrepaird,
Do euerie minute mouldring fall:
Whilst in them no man dwels at all.
The Romane walls do not embrace
The citizens of her owne race.
The scum of euery nation
There now takes vp his station.
These slaughtring warres hath this affected;
And now it needs not be suspected,
That Rome is able in long time,
To act againe a ciuill crime.
For these harmes thanke Pharsalias field,
To it may bloody Cannas yeeld,
And Allias calamities,
Long kept in Latium memorie.
Rome lesser harmes in Annals sets
But willingly this day forgets.
O griefe! the desolation,
That comes by aires infection,
That pestilent diseases breeds,
That from dire famines rage proceeds:
Or Townes with rapting fiers burning
Or fearefull earthquakes ouerturning
Whole cities, all such great decayes
These men might well repaire and raise.
Whom Fortune brought frō euery quarter,
In this fell warre to slay and martyr.
And laid them prostate in this field
That many yeares did breede and yeeld,
Of souldiers and of captains braue,
That in these armies so did raue,
And by their wracks did shew withall,
How great Rome was, when she did fall.
For by how much her powre was spread
Ouer huge nations vanquished,
The faster her prosperitie
Now ranne vnto calamitie.
Her warres each yeare to her did giue
Nations did that her store relieue.
Tytan as he his chariot roles,
Thy Empire sees in either Poles.
And of the East small deale remain'd
That by thy conquest was not gain'd.
So as the circuit of thy might,
Was alwaies vnder day and night
The wandring Planets in their rounds
Did neuer passe the Empires bounds.
But now Emathias dismall day,
Her glorie did so prostrate lay,
As that on wracke to ruine brought
What many yeares had set aloft.
For by that day to passe it came
That Iudea dreaded not our name,
Nor that the Dakes would giue consents
To liue in Townes and leaue their tents.
Nor that our Consuls guirded round,
Should guide the plowshare on the ground
To cut Sarmatian cities bound.
Nor that we could due vengeance haue
On Parthians as their scorns did craue.
And that our libertie in dread
Of ciuill Tyrannie is fled
Beyond the Tygris and the Rheine,
Without hope to returne againe:
Although by vs so often sought
With our liues blood to haue bin bought:
A good denyed vs to gaine
Which Scythes and Germans do retaine,
But neuer more will turne her face
To looke vpon the Romane Race.
I would our state had neuer knowne
That Augurie by vultures showne,
When first with their sinister flight,
Our wals foundation deepe was pight
By Romulus, that did surround
A dismall groue within their bound,
But that Romes fate had bene held backe,
Till after this Thessalian wracke.
Bending to him with all their rout,
And that the warre would no delay,
But that the Gods design'd this day.
He stood amaz'd, his heart grew cold,
The which in Armes mishap foretold,
That feare should such a captaine thrall;
Like dread did his whole host appall.
Then he a loftie horse bestrides,
And through his troops and cohorts rides,
The day (quoth he) that your braue sprights
Prest on to end all lingring fights,
Is now at hand, therefore expose
Your vtmost force against your foes.
This is the vpshot now for all,
One houre will vs together call.
He that his countries cause respects,
Or his deare houshold Gods affects;
He that his children and his wife,
And all deare pledges of his life,
Doth seeke to haue and hold againe,
Must with his sword the same obtaine.
For all is now by God prouided
In this one field to be decided.
And we must hope, that haue the right,
The heauenly powers for vs will fight;
They so will guide our weapons fierce,
That they shall Cæsars bowels pierce;
It is their wills that with his blood,
Romes sacred lawes should be made good.
Had they design'd to Cæsars fate
The world and all the Romane state,
By Destinies and their decree,
My elder yeares might shortned be.
260
Both of the people and of Rome,
Haue Pompey plac't as leader chiefe,
Tis no signe of their wroth or griefe.
All means that may bring victorie,
We haue prouided seriously.
And many a Prince and noble Lord,
Our fortunes run with free accord.
The ancient bands of martiall wights,
With graue aduice on our part fights.
And if vnto our later yeares,
Fate had reseru'd those worthy peares,
The Curij, and Camilli stout,
The Decij that did make no doubt
Freely to sacrifice their blood,
Thereby to gaine their Countrie good,
All these on our side would haue stood.
The nations that are farhest East
Vnto this seruice now are prest.
And many cities of account,
So as our forces do surmount
All other armed troopes by farre,
That euer yet attempted warre:
The whole worlds strength at once we haue
The souldiers and the leaders braue,
That both the Tropicks do containe
From Southerne pole to Northerne waine.
We able are (our wings stretcht out)
To close our enemies about.
Few hands to conquer will suffise,
Our troops will dant them with their cries.
Cæsar with his bare feeble host
To fight with vs can be but lost.
Thinke that vpon Romes walls there stands,
With dangling locks, and cast vp hands,
The Roman Matrones in your sight,
Calling on you brauely to fight.
And thinke the Senate, those graue Peeres
Vnfit for Mart through aged yeeres,
Following our Campe, do at your feete
279
And that Romes selfe you do encounter,
Fearing a Tyrant should surmount her.
Thinke that the Romanes of these dayes,
And those that future times shall raise,
With one voyce altogether praise,
In freedome to receiue their birth,
And so returne vnto the earth.
And after these so deare respects,
If Pompey might mone your affects,
He and his children, and his spouse
Would at your feete cast selfe same vowes.
If lawfull twere reserued free,
The Empires sacred maiestie.
And lest we conquer them in fight,
Pompey is but a banisht wight.
And but his father-inlawes base scorne,
And to your shame a man forlorne.
My elder yeares I now should hate,
And longer loath to draw my date,
To bring hoare haires to seruile state.
The heauie words their captaine vsde
Hath all their minds with rage enfusde
The Romane valour it doth moue
Rather a present death to proue,
Then those suspects should true be found
That in his speech he did propound.
Then both the armies rusht together,
With equall furie shew'd by either.
Feare doth one side to courage straine,
The others hope to rule and raigne,
And now their hands do that destry
Which no age can againe supply.
Nor euer any humane paine,
Will be of powre to raise againe.
Although from armes they still refraine.
For this one onely battell day,
Will future Maurood much decay,
And will those peoples births destroy
That after worlds might else enioy.
280
Will be a by-word of defame,
The Albane and Laurentine bowres,
The Gabine, and the Veian towres,
And Coram rotted all with rust,
Will not be seene for ruines dust.
The Country voide and desolate;
So as the Senatorian state,
Vnwillingly will their remaine,
Longer then night shall them constraine.
And that to do they oft repine,
Though one of Numas lawes diuine,
But tis not age that this hath done,
Nor putrifaction ouerrun
Such mighty frames, but ciuill broyle
Hath laide such citties with the soyle.
What is become of all the store
Of humane races but of yore,
That in the world were borne and bread?
The townes are vnreplenished?
The champian vninhabited?
One citie now vs all containes,
The fields manur'd by slaues in chaines.
The mouldy howses neuer airde
With their foundations vnrepaird,
Do euerie minute mouldring fall:
Whilst in them no man dwels at all.
The Romane walls do not embrace
The citizens of her owne race.
The scum of euery nation
There now takes vp his station.
These slaughtring warres hath this affected;
And now it needs not be suspected,
That Rome is able in long time,
To act againe a ciuill crime.
For these harmes thanke Pharsalias field,
To it may bloody Cannas yeeld,
And Allias calamities,
Long kept in Latium memorie.
Rome lesser harmes in Annals sets
281
O griefe! the desolation,
That comes by aires infection,
That pestilent diseases breeds,
That from dire famines rage proceeds:
Or Townes with rapting fiers burning
Or fearefull earthquakes ouerturning
Whole cities, all such great decayes
These men might well repaire and raise.
Whom Fortune brought frō euery quarter,
In this fell warre to slay and martyr.
And laid them prostate in this field
That many yeares did breede and yeeld,
Of souldiers and of captains braue,
That in these armies so did raue,
And by their wracks did shew withall,
How great Rome was, when she did fall.
For by how much her powre was spread
Ouer huge nations vanquished,
The faster her prosperitie
Now ranne vnto calamitie.
Her warres each yeare to her did giue
Nations did that her store relieue.
Tytan as he his chariot roles,
Thy Empire sees in either Poles.
And of the East small deale remain'd
That by thy conquest was not gain'd.
So as the circuit of thy might,
Was alwaies vnder day and night
The wandring Planets in their rounds
Did neuer passe the Empires bounds.
But now Emathias dismall day,
Her glorie did so prostrate lay,
As that on wracke to ruine brought
What many yeares had set aloft.
For by that day to passe it came
That Iudea dreaded not our name,
Nor that the Dakes would giue consents
To liue in Townes and leaue their tents.
Nor that our Consuls guirded round,
282
To cut Sarmatian cities bound.
Nor that we could due vengeance haue
On Parthians as their scorns did craue.
And that our libertie in dread
Of ciuill Tyrannie is fled
Beyond the Tygris and the Rheine,
Without hope to returne againe:
Although by vs so often sought
With our liues blood to haue bin bought:
A good denyed vs to gaine
Which Scythes and Germans do retaine,
But neuer more will turne her face
To looke vpon the Romane Race.
I would our state had neuer knowne
That Augurie by vultures showne,
When first with their sinister flight,
Our wals foundation deepe was pight
By Romulus, that did surround
A dismall groue within their bound,
But that Romes fate had bene held backe,
Till after this Thessalian wracke.
O Fortune needs I must complaine,
How Brutes their valours lost in vaine!
Why with such reuerence and such awe
Haue we obseru'd our ancient law?
And euermore, as new yeares came,
Did stile them by the Consuls name?
Ye Meads, and Arabes are blest,
With all the nations of the East,
That haue bene vsde perpetually
Vnto the rule of Tyranny.
For now mongst those of any age,
That kings haue held in vassalage,
Our destenie is to be last,
And seruile shame our glory blast.
There are no Gods to be obaid;
The world is but by blind chance swaid:
Tis false that men of Ioue haue said.
Could he (from out the lofty skie)
These slaughters see of Thessaly,
And hold from them his thundring might,
When he Pholoen so will smite?
And Oeton scorch with lightning flame.
And Rhodops groue, so free from blame?
How doth he blast the stately pine?
What must this worke be brought to fine
By Cassius hand? and must he quell
The Tyrants head that so doth swell?
The starres denide to lend their shine
Vnto Thyestes odious line:
And Argos cittie reft of light,
Beclowding it with sodaine night,
And will the heau'ns daylight afford
Vnto Thessalias bloody sword?
Whereas so many brethren meete
With blood that do each other greete,
And children that their parents slay,
No mortall harmes the Gods do way.
Yet of reuenge, so much we hope,
As heauen can to the earth giue scope.
These ciuill warres shall Deifie
New powres, like to the Gods on hie.
These Images shal be set out
With blazing stars, that beames do sprout
About their heads, and in their hands
Ioues thunderbolts and flaming brands.
And in the Temples Rome shall sweare
By Cæsars ghost with sacred feare.
How Brutes their valours lost in vaine!
Why with such reuerence and such awe
Haue we obseru'd our ancient law?
And euermore, as new yeares came,
Did stile them by the Consuls name?
Ye Meads, and Arabes are blest,
With all the nations of the East,
That haue bene vsde perpetually
Vnto the rule of Tyranny.
For now mongst those of any age,
That kings haue held in vassalage,
Our destenie is to be last,
And seruile shame our glory blast.
There are no Gods to be obaid;
The world is but by blind chance swaid:
Tis false that men of Ioue haue said.
Could he (from out the lofty skie)
283
And hold from them his thundring might,
When he Pholoen so will smite?
And Oeton scorch with lightning flame.
And Rhodops groue, so free from blame?
How doth he blast the stately pine?
What must this worke be brought to fine
By Cassius hand? and must he quell
The Tyrants head that so doth swell?
The starres denide to lend their shine
Vnto Thyestes odious line:
And Argos cittie reft of light,
Beclowding it with sodaine night,
And will the heau'ns daylight afford
Vnto Thessalias bloody sword?
Whereas so many brethren meete
With blood that do each other greete,
And children that their parents slay,
No mortall harmes the Gods do way.
Yet of reuenge, so much we hope,
As heauen can to the earth giue scope.
These ciuill warres shall Deifie
New powres, like to the Gods on hie.
These Images shal be set out
With blazing stars, that beames do sprout
About their heads, and in their hands
Ioues thunderbolts and flaming brands.
And in the Temples Rome shall sweare
By Cæsars ghost with sacred feare.
Now whilst both armies face to face
With speedy march shortned the space
That sundred them from fatall blowes,
And were so neare as each one knowes
Which way his deadly pyle should straine,
And what hand threatned bane againe,
They saw that then was come the time
That needs must act a monstrous crime.
The sonnes against their fathers stands,
Brothers confront with armed hands,
No man that time his place would change
And yet with all a faintnesse strange
Did them surprise; which pittie made,
And cold blood did their hearts inuade
So as the cohorts on both parts
Forbeare to throw their ready darts.
Crassine the Gods on thee bestow
An end that may no ending know.
Not such a death as all men trie
But death that liuing still shall die.
That with a lance from thy strayn'd arme
Didst first begin this ciuill harme,
And with the blood of Roman wound,
Didst first distaine Pharsalian ground.
O heady rage and murdrous minde,
Who would haue thought a hand to finde
So prone to bloud, or else so bold
Whilst Cæsars selfe his hands did hold.
Now with shrill noyse the aire doth ring,
The Cornet her strain'd notes did sing,
The Trumpets to the battell sounds,
The clamorous cries confusde rebounds
From earth vnto the vaulted skie,
Whereas the clouds do neuer flie,
Nor where the thunders do engender;
And then these shouts thēselues do render
Vnto the vales nere Tempes groues,
And thence againe it fleeting roues
With doubling ecchoes, that lowd raues
From hollow vaults of Pelian caues,
So as therewith mount Pindus grones,
And trembling shooke Pangean stones,
Oeteus hil doth houle likewise
And so the furie of these cries
Doth all about those quarters flie
That their owne noyse them terrifie
With speedy march shortned the space
That sundred them from fatall blowes,
And were so neare as each one knowes
Which way his deadly pyle should straine,
And what hand threatned bane againe,
They saw that then was come the time
That needs must act a monstrous crime.
The sonnes against their fathers stands,
Brothers confront with armed hands,
No man that time his place would change
284
Did them surprise; which pittie made,
And cold blood did their hearts inuade
So as the cohorts on both parts
Forbeare to throw their ready darts.
Crassine the Gods on thee bestow
An end that may no ending know.
Not such a death as all men trie
But death that liuing still shall die.
That with a lance from thy strayn'd arme
Didst first begin this ciuill harme,
And with the blood of Roman wound,
Didst first distaine Pharsalian ground.
O heady rage and murdrous minde,
Who would haue thought a hand to finde
So prone to bloud, or else so bold
Whilst Cæsars selfe his hands did hold.
Now with shrill noyse the aire doth ring,
The Cornet her strain'd notes did sing,
The Trumpets to the battell sounds,
The clamorous cries confusde rebounds
From earth vnto the vaulted skie,
Whereas the clouds do neuer flie,
Nor where the thunders do engender;
And then these shouts thēselues do render
Vnto the vales nere Tempes groues,
And thence againe it fleeting roues
With doubling ecchoes, that lowd raues
From hollow vaults of Pelian caues,
So as therewith mount Pindus grones,
And trembling shooke Pangean stones,
Oeteus hil doth houle likewise
And so the furie of these cries
Doth all about those quarters flie
That their owne noyse them terrifie
A multitude of darts are cast,
And with them diuers wishes past,
Some hope that they their foes shal wound
Others wish they may fall to ground:
And that no blood should soyle their hands
All now on hap and hazard stands.
Vncertaine Fortune leades the dance,
The guiltie now are made by chance.
Of those that fall, how great a part
Are slaine with flying shafts and dart?
Now must the ciuill hate be showne,
But by the murdring sword alone.
The Romane blood is onely shed,
With their owne glayues embowelled.
Pompey now his battalions flankes
With thicke and double filed rankes.
Poldron to poldron fast combin'd,
And Targateeres vnto them ioyn'd.
So as they scarse had roome the whiles
To vse their hands or cast their piles.
They fear'd they were so nearely prest,
That their owne swords would them infest.
But Cæsars Veterans withall
Headlong on these thicke troopes do fall:
And through this presse of armed foes,
They hew a passage with their blowes.
Eu'n where their habergions and maile,
Most safely did their bodies vaile.
For (notwithstanding those strong coaces)
They pierc't their bowels and their throats.
So as amongst these troops of armes,
Each one pertaker is of harmes.
One army doth sustaine the fight:
The other doth expresse his might.
The swords are cold on Pompeys part:
But Cæsars steeme in bloody mart.
Neither did Fortune long delay
The ballance of these broiles to sway:
But like a torrent reuell keepes,
And multitudes in moments sweepes.
And with them diuers wishes past,
Some hope that they their foes shal wound
Others wish they may fall to ground:
And that no blood should soyle their hands
285
Vncertaine Fortune leades the dance,
The guiltie now are made by chance.
Of those that fall, how great a part
Are slaine with flying shafts and dart?
Now must the ciuill hate be showne,
But by the murdring sword alone.
The Romane blood is onely shed,
With their owne glayues embowelled.
Pompey now his battalions flankes
With thicke and double filed rankes.
Poldron to poldron fast combin'd,
And Targateeres vnto them ioyn'd.
So as they scarse had roome the whiles
To vse their hands or cast their piles.
They fear'd they were so nearely prest,
That their owne swords would them infest.
But Cæsars Veterans withall
Headlong on these thicke troopes do fall:
And through this presse of armed foes,
They hew a passage with their blowes.
Eu'n where their habergions and maile,
Most safely did their bodies vaile.
For (notwithstanding those strong coaces)
They pierc't their bowels and their throats.
So as amongst these troops of armes,
Each one pertaker is of harmes.
One army doth sustaine the fight:
The other doth expresse his might.
The swords are cold on Pompeys part:
But Cæsars steeme in bloody mart.
Neither did Fortune long delay
The ballance of these broiles to sway:
But like a torrent reuell keepes,
And multitudes in moments sweepes.
But herewithall foorth Pompey brings,
His troopes of horse streatcht out in wings:
And plac't them on his battaile flankes,
And after them dispersed ranks
Of light-arm'd bands, to giue supply,
Who on the foe with furie flie.
And all his nations pressing hither,
Their weapons mingled then together.
And now the Roman blood is sought
VVith fire, stones, darts, much scath is wrought,
And through the spatious aire there flies
The bullets that with motion fries.
Then the Arabians, and the Meades,
And Ithyrans their stout troops leades
Vnto the fight with bended bowes,
That to their shafts no leuell showes:
But onely shoote vp to the skies,
Which then with deaded force down flies:
So as the head is seldome found
To do great harme or make deepe wound.
Of pyles the deadly blowes they feele,
The aire is arched all with steele.
The darts and shafts so thicke do haile,
That on the feeld they draw nights vaile.
His troopes of horse streatcht out in wings:
And plac't them on his battaile flankes,
And after them dispersed ranks
Of light-arm'd bands, to giue supply,
286
And all his nations pressing hither,
Their weapons mingled then together.
And now the Roman blood is sought
VVith fire, stones, darts, much scath is wrought,
And through the spatious aire there flies
The bullets that with motion fries.
Then the Arabians, and the Meades,
And Ithyrans their stout troops leades
Vnto the fight with bended bowes,
That to their shafts no leuell showes:
But onely shoote vp to the skies,
Which then with deaded force down flies:
So as the head is seldome found
To do great harme or make deepe wound.
Of pyles the deadly blowes they feele,
The aire is arched all with steele.
The darts and shafts so thicke do haile,
That on the feeld they draw nights vaile.
Then Cæsar did begin to doubt
His vantguard might be put to rout.
Therefore to strength his front prouides
Some cohorts from those oblique sides
That were behind the ensignes plac't,
And those he thither drew in hast.
VVhere the Barbarian horsemen swayd,
VVhom his vnlookt for troops assayd,
His wings stood fast not disarayd,
These men he quickly put to flight,
Amazde they had forgot to fight.
And cowards shame they nought regarded.
No care was euer well awarded,
Nor charge in any ciuill harmes
Vnto Barbarian fearefull swarmes.
No sooner did their palfries feele,
VVithin their brests the sticking steele,
But in a rage their riders flings,
And with their feete their brains out dings.
Then all the horse troops took their heeles.
Squadrons of youths together wheeles,
And from the foe they turne their heads,
And their owne footmen ouertreads.
The slaughter now exceeded measure,
Resistance was no more at leasure.
The warre held now vnequall lots,
One side was swords, the other throats.
But Cæsars hoast was much too slight
To slaughter all those troopes outright,
That he subdude and put to flight.
O would this goare that in thee lies
(Pharsalia) might thy thirst suffise,
That these Barbarian breasts haue shed,
And no more streames of blood be spred!
And that their bones (in heapes so stroad)
Might be enough thy fields to loade.
Or if that thy desire be more
To glut thy selfe with Romane gore;
O then spare these Barbarians,
The Galates, and Syrians,
The Gaules, and Capadocians,
Th' Armenian, and Cicilian realmes,
The Spaniards in the worlds extreames!
For when these ciuill warres are dated,
These shall be Romans then created.
So now this little feare begunne
Doth through all Pompeys army run.
And now the Fates a course prouide,
That Cæsar all may rule and guide.
His vantguard might be put to rout.
Therefore to strength his front prouides
Some cohorts from those oblique sides
That were behind the ensignes plac't,
And those he thither drew in hast.
VVhere the Barbarian horsemen swayd,
VVhom his vnlookt for troops assayd,
His wings stood fast not disarayd,
These men he quickly put to flight,
Amazde they had forgot to fight.
And cowards shame they nought regarded.
No care was euer well awarded,
Nor charge in any ciuill harmes
Vnto Barbarian fearefull swarmes.
No sooner did their palfries feele,
VVithin their brests the sticking steele,
But in a rage their riders flings,
And with their feete their brains out dings.
Then all the horse troops took their heeles.
Squadrons of youths together wheeles,
287
And their owne footmen ouertreads.
The slaughter now exceeded measure,
Resistance was no more at leasure.
The warre held now vnequall lots,
One side was swords, the other throats.
But Cæsars hoast was much too slight
To slaughter all those troopes outright,
That he subdude and put to flight.
O would this goare that in thee lies
(Pharsalia) might thy thirst suffise,
That these Barbarian breasts haue shed,
And no more streames of blood be spred!
And that their bones (in heapes so stroad)
Might be enough thy fields to loade.
Or if that thy desire be more
To glut thy selfe with Romane gore;
O then spare these Barbarians,
The Galates, and Syrians,
The Gaules, and Capadocians,
Th' Armenian, and Cicilian realmes,
The Spaniards in the worlds extreames!
For when these ciuill warres are dated,
These shall be Romans then created.
So now this little feare begunne
Doth through all Pompeys army run.
And now the Fates a course prouide,
That Cæsar all may rule and guide.
For now the fight was come at length
To Pompeys greatest troope and strength,
Where his maine battaile ranged stood.
The former ranks (with mazed mood)
About the fields were scattring scard,
But here awhile the warre went hard.
And Cæsars fortune stood debard.
The youths (that in this battell stands)
Were no auxiliary bands,
The kings to this assistance brought.
The Roman hands and swords then fought.
One finds his brother in this place,
Another sees his fathers face.
Here rage and furie now exceeds,
Here Cæsar are thy hainous deeds.
O let this pageant of the warre,
Be from my mind estranged farre!
Let it to darknes be design'd,
No age shall in my Poeme find,
Discourses of so wicked kind,
To teach hereafter and to show
What ciuill warre can ouerthrow.
And rather let all teares be lost,
And all complaints at so deare cost.
Therefore ô Rome what did betide
In this last conflict, I will hide:
Cæsar, that thunderbolt of rage,
That spur, that furie doth engage,
Did heare about the cohorts ride,
Lest any mischiefe of his side
Should be to seeke or left vndone,
Incensing those headlong to run
To bold attempts, whose hote desiers
The rage of warre already fiers.
Their murdring fauchions then he eyde,
Which of them most in blood was dide:
And which of them but slightly baynd,
And onely at the point distaind.
What hand the sword did trembling trie:
What darts or piles do faintly flie,
And what were throwne couragiously:
Who onely by compulsion fights:
And who in slaughtring wars delights:
Who did relent his bloody vaine,
When he a Citizen saw slaine.
Thus ouer all the field he flies,
Where slaughterd bodies heaped lies,
And many of his men he found,
Whose streaming blood gusht from the wound
When he himselfe would then assay
With his owne hand the blood to stay.
VVhich way soeuer that he went,
He seem'd the likenesse to present
Of sterne Bellona, that did shake
Her bloody whip, that makes men quake.
Or as if Mars were in the field,
Arm'd with the strong Palladian shield,
With boystrous batton in his hand,
Vrging a fierce Bistonian band,
Whereas the whirling Charrets stand.
Here slaughters rise, and cruell fight,
That dimmes their eyes like misty night.
Here now are hear'd huge grones and cries,
With sounds from clashing Arms that flies,
As men fall on each others backes,
Whilst faulchions, faulchions hews, & hacks.
And Cæsars selfe with his owne hands
Supplies with swords and darts their bands:
And bids them (as they deale their blowes)
Strike at the faces of their foes.
He faster then drew on his troopes,
And stirres them vp that fainting droopes.
And those that dragge he makes aduance,
Pushing them forward with his lance.
The common rout he biddes them spare,
And shewes them where the Senate are.
He knowes the Empires chiefest blood,
And where her noblest members stood.
Who vanquisht, Rome was then his owne,
And her last freedome ouer-throwne.
Then second rankes of Peeres he boords,
Piercing their reuerent breasts with swords.
The Lepidi fall in this place,
And those of the Metellan race:
The Coruins likewise taste the same,
And the Torquati Kingly name.
The leaders and the chiefe are slaine,
Whilst Pompey yet did safe remaine.
To Pompeys greatest troope and strength,
Where his maine battaile ranged stood.
The former ranks (with mazed mood)
About the fields were scattring scard,
But here awhile the warre went hard.
And Cæsars fortune stood debard.
The youths (that in this battell stands)
Were no auxiliary bands,
The kings to this assistance brought.
The Roman hands and swords then fought.
One finds his brother in this place,
288
Here rage and furie now exceeds,
Here Cæsar are thy hainous deeds.
O let this pageant of the warre,
Be from my mind estranged farre!
Let it to darknes be design'd,
No age shall in my Poeme find,
Discourses of so wicked kind,
To teach hereafter and to show
What ciuill warre can ouerthrow.
And rather let all teares be lost,
And all complaints at so deare cost.
Therefore ô Rome what did betide
In this last conflict, I will hide:
Cæsar, that thunderbolt of rage,
That spur, that furie doth engage,
Did heare about the cohorts ride,
Lest any mischiefe of his side
Should be to seeke or left vndone,
Incensing those headlong to run
To bold attempts, whose hote desiers
The rage of warre already fiers.
Their murdring fauchions then he eyde,
Which of them most in blood was dide:
And which of them but slightly baynd,
And onely at the point distaind.
What hand the sword did trembling trie:
What darts or piles do faintly flie,
And what were throwne couragiously:
Who onely by compulsion fights:
And who in slaughtring wars delights:
Who did relent his bloody vaine,
When he a Citizen saw slaine.
Thus ouer all the field he flies,
Where slaughterd bodies heaped lies,
And many of his men he found,
Whose streaming blood gusht from the wound
When he himselfe would then assay
With his owne hand the blood to stay.
VVhich way soeuer that he went,
289
Of sterne Bellona, that did shake
Her bloody whip, that makes men quake.
Or as if Mars were in the field,
Arm'd with the strong Palladian shield,
With boystrous batton in his hand,
Vrging a fierce Bistonian band,
Whereas the whirling Charrets stand.
Here slaughters rise, and cruell fight,
That dimmes their eyes like misty night.
Here now are hear'd huge grones and cries,
With sounds from clashing Arms that flies,
As men fall on each others backes,
Whilst faulchions, faulchions hews, & hacks.
And Cæsars selfe with his owne hands
Supplies with swords and darts their bands:
And bids them (as they deale their blowes)
Strike at the faces of their foes.
He faster then drew on his troopes,
And stirres them vp that fainting droopes.
And those that dragge he makes aduance,
Pushing them forward with his lance.
The common rout he biddes them spare,
And shewes them where the Senate are.
He knowes the Empires chiefest blood,
And where her noblest members stood.
Who vanquisht, Rome was then his owne,
And her last freedome ouer-throwne.
Then second rankes of Peeres he boords,
Piercing their reuerent breasts with swords.
The Lepidi fall in this place,
And those of the Metellan race:
The Coruins likewise taste the same,
And the Torquati Kingly name.
The leaders and the chiefe are slaine,
Whilst Pompey yet did safe remaine.
O Brutus (that thy head didst maske
But with a meane Plebeian caske,
And so wert to thy foes vnknowne)
With what sword was thy valour showne?
Thou glory of the Empires state,
Chiefe hope of Senatorian fate,
Last of that race that banish't Kings,
Whose name throughout all ages rings;
O do not here (with too great spright)
Against thy foes expresse thy might:
Doe not thereby thy end aduance
Before the dire Philippian chance.
In thy Thessalia thou must fall;
Here canst thou doe no good at all,
Although thy sword for Cæsar wait,
He is not yet come to his haight;
Nor to that supreme humane pride
That will all honour ouer-stride.
Then will his noble death beseeme
The Fates, that him so worthy deeme.
O let him liue, and proudly raigne,
And then by Brutus sword be slaine.
But with a meane Plebeian caske,
And so wert to thy foes vnknowne)
With what sword was thy valour showne?
290
Chiefe hope of Senatorian fate,
Last of that race that banish't Kings,
Whose name throughout all ages rings;
O do not here (with too great spright)
Against thy foes expresse thy might:
Doe not thereby thy end aduance
Before the dire Philippian chance.
In thy Thessalia thou must fall;
Here canst thou doe no good at all,
Although thy sword for Cæsar wait,
He is not yet come to his haight;
Nor to that supreme humane pride
That will all honour ouer-stride.
Then will his noble death beseeme
The Fates, that him so worthy deeme.
O let him liue, and proudly raigne,
And then by Brutus sword be slaine.
Here now our Countries glory dies,
Here in a heape confused lies
The old Patrician Roman gore,
Mixt with Plebeian bloudy store;
And yet amidst this butcherie
Of Heroick Nobilitie,
Domitius stout that death of thine
Aboue the rest most cleare did shine;
Whom fate did oft oppresse and tosse:
For Fortune still did Pompey crosse,
Where thou madst one, and still hadst losse.
So often wert thou Cæsars pray;
But now hast clos'd thy latest day
With liberty preserued free,
Which makes those many wounds to thee
Pleasing, whereof thou now must dye,
And no more Cæsars pardons try.
But Cæsar chanc't that way to passe,
Where he in gore blood wallowing was,
And tauntingly vnto him spake;
Domitius, thou that soughtst to take,
My charge from me, and gouerne Gaule,
Pompey thou canst not serue at all,
Without thee this warre we shall trye.
No more he said; Then to reply,
His panting breast him life affoords,
And thus pronounc't his dying words;
Cæsar thou hast not yet the meed
Of thy accursed wicked deed.
Doubtfull as yet doth stand thy fate,
And lesse in shew then Pompeys state.
I one of Pompeys traine doe goe
Freely vnto the shades below:
And safely thither doe I wend;
And yet (by that these warres haue end)
I well may hope, when I am dead,
Wracke shall befall thy wretched head;
And vengeance due shall on thee light,
And yeeld both me and Pompey right.
So hauing said, did life resigne,
And deaths darke hand clos'd vp his eyne.
Here in a heape confused lies
The old Patrician Roman gore,
Mixt with Plebeian bloudy store;
And yet amidst this butcherie
Of Heroick Nobilitie,
Domitius stout that death of thine
Aboue the rest most cleare did shine;
Whom fate did oft oppresse and tosse:
For Fortune still did Pompey crosse,
Where thou madst one, and still hadst losse.
So often wert thou Cæsars pray;
But now hast clos'd thy latest day
With liberty preserued free,
Which makes those many wounds to thee
Pleasing, whereof thou now must dye,
And no more Cæsars pardons try.
But Cæsar chanc't that way to passe,
Where he in gore blood wallowing was,
And tauntingly vnto him spake;
Domitius, thou that soughtst to take,
My charge from me, and gouerne Gaule,
291
Without thee this warre we shall trye.
No more he said; Then to reply,
His panting breast him life affoords,
And thus pronounc't his dying words;
Cæsar thou hast not yet the meed
Of thy accursed wicked deed.
Doubtfull as yet doth stand thy fate,
And lesse in shew then Pompeys state.
I one of Pompeys traine doe goe
Freely vnto the shades below:
And safely thither doe I wend;
And yet (by that these warres haue end)
I well may hope, when I am dead,
Wracke shall befall thy wretched head;
And vengeance due shall on thee light,
And yeeld both me and Pompey right.
So hauing said, did life resigne,
And deaths darke hand clos'd vp his eyne.
In vaine alas what should I shed
Teares here vpon the thousands dead
Of those, that from the worlds each part
Did finde their ends in this dire Mart?
Or why should I but single out
Some priuate fates in this huge rout,
Whose bowels pierc't with deadly wounds
Their latest liuing dayes confounds?
Or who on earth dead bodies spurnes?
Or who their bloody swords poynts turnes
Vpon their breast, that gasping lye
To free their soules that lingring dye?
Or who at one blow downe is cast?
Or who with hewd limbes standeth fast?
Or who with darts doth bodies wound?
Or with his launce nailes men to ground?
Or whose veins pierc't whence blood flies out
Into the aire, and doth besprout
The Armour of his murdring foe?
Who slaies his brother at a blow,
And, as a stranger, doth him spoyle,
Cuts off his head, and in the soyle
Doth hide the same to hide his guilt;
Or who his fathers bloud hath spilt:
And mangled hath his face the while,
The lookers on so to beguile:
And doth it with such ragefull ire
As twere some foe, and not his sire.
No one mans death can claime lament;
To waile men now no time is lent.
The slaughters of Pharsalias field
Is nothing such as others yeeld.
There priuate Fates the warres attends:
Here Rome and all her people ends.
There warre to death doth souldiers call;
But here at once whole Nations fall.
The Grecian peoples bloud here streames,
The Ponticke and Assirian realmes:
And now the bloud of Romans slaine,
In torrents fleets on that againe;
And with her ouer-flowing store
Sweepes from the fields Barbarian gore.
More people in this battaile slaine
Then our age can supply againe.
Tis more then life and health that's lost;
It hath the whole world ruine cost.
The sword vpon those bodies rages,
That should haue serued future ages.
What haue our children yet misdonne,
That they to seruile state must runne?
Or what fault in posterity,
Borne to be thralles to tyranny?
Haue we so cowardly borne Armes,
And offred vp our throats to harmes?
The burthen of anothers feare,
Vpon our shoulders must we beare?
O Fortune! if thou needs wouldst call
Our sonnes to be a tyrants thrall,
Thou shouldst haue giuen them warres withall,
Teares here vpon the thousands dead
Of those, that from the worlds each part
Did finde their ends in this dire Mart?
Or why should I but single out
Some priuate fates in this huge rout,
Whose bowels pierc't with deadly wounds
Their latest liuing dayes confounds?
Or who on earth dead bodies spurnes?
Or who their bloody swords poynts turnes
Vpon their breast, that gasping lye
To free their soules that lingring dye?
Or who at one blow downe is cast?
Or who with hewd limbes standeth fast?
Or who with darts doth bodies wound?
Or with his launce nailes men to ground?
Or whose veins pierc't whence blood flies out
Into the aire, and doth besprout
The Armour of his murdring foe?
Who slaies his brother at a blow,
And, as a stranger, doth him spoyle,
292
Doth hide the same to hide his guilt;
Or who his fathers bloud hath spilt:
And mangled hath his face the while,
The lookers on so to beguile:
And doth it with such ragefull ire
As twere some foe, and not his sire.
No one mans death can claime lament;
To waile men now no time is lent.
The slaughters of Pharsalias field
Is nothing such as others yeeld.
There priuate Fates the warres attends:
Here Rome and all her people ends.
There warre to death doth souldiers call;
But here at once whole Nations fall.
The Grecian peoples bloud here streames,
The Ponticke and Assirian realmes:
And now the bloud of Romans slaine,
In torrents fleets on that againe;
And with her ouer-flowing store
Sweepes from the fields Barbarian gore.
More people in this battaile slaine
Then our age can supply againe.
Tis more then life and health that's lost;
It hath the whole world ruine cost.
The sword vpon those bodies rages,
That should haue serued future ages.
What haue our children yet misdonne,
That they to seruile state must runne?
Or what fault in posterity,
Borne to be thralles to tyranny?
Haue we so cowardly borne Armes,
And offred vp our throats to harmes?
The burthen of anothers feare,
Vpon our shoulders must we beare?
O Fortune! if thou needs wouldst call
Our sonnes to be a tyrants thrall,
Thou shouldst haue giuen them warres withall,
Now doth vnhappy Pompey finde
The Gods, and Roman Fates vnkinde:
And (ere the fight was throughly ended)
His cursed fortune he condemned.
Whilst in the field hee stood on hye
Vpon a hill, and thence did eye
The slaughters and the troopes ramuerst
Throughout Pharsalias field disperst.
The which the fight before did hide,
He multitudes sees on his side
Of weapons, and of bodies lost,
And his owne wracke, at their blouds cost;
Yet did he not (as wretches will)
Desire the whole with him should spill.
Nor in his ruine wrap them all,
But on the heauenly powers did call,
That yet the greatest part might thriue
Of Latium blood, and him suruiue:
This is his comfort in annoy.
O Gods (quoth he) doe not destroy
So many Nations at a clappe:
The world may stand free from mishappe,
And Rome may many ages flourish,
Although that Pompey sinke and perish.
But if it so your likings please,
More woes on me to heape then these;
My wife and children yet subsist
For Fates to do with what they list.
Hath not this ciuill warre cost deere,
If I and mine must perish heere?
May not such wounds be deemed wide,
Though all the world escape beside?
O Fortune! why dost thou so racke
And labour to bring all to wracke?
Nothing is mine, I all things lacke.
So hauing said, he rides about
The Ensignes, and the Armes in rout.
And in each part throughout the lands
Sees how his squadrons broken stands:
Whom he retraits, and doth restraine
From running to their deaths amaine.
He values not himselfe so much,
That for his sake harme should them touch.
And yet his courage did not faile
The swords and weapons to assaile,
Or put his life to hazards chance,
Or vnto death his breast aduance.
He fear'd if Pompey there should dye,
The Souldiers would no dangers flye,
But on his body heaped lye.
Besides, he fouly did despise
To lye a scorne to Cæsars eyes.
Yet if thy father-in-law affect
To cast his eyes on that prospect,
Thy head to him will be presented,
It cannot be by place preuented:
And thou his wife wert partly cause
Why from this slaughter he with-drawes
To see thy face; for Fates ordaine
That in thy sight he should be slaine.
Then he a Courser swift bestrides,
And posting from the battaile rides.
Feare makes him not to turne his backe,
His heart did neuer courage lacke:
In most distresse his minde was stout,
Nor plaints nor teares he powreth out;
But such a reuerent griefe exprest
As with a Maiesty fits best
For him, at that time to bestow
On Roman fortune brought so low:
And with like constancy beheld
The downe-falles of Emathia's field.
Nor prosperous wars could make thee proud
Nor ouer-throwes thy courage cloud,
That faithlesse Fortune (flattring thee
With glorious pompe in triumphes three)
Thou now dost scorne with lesse account,
And makes thy minde her force surmount.
Securely thou from hence dost part,
Freed from the cumbrous cares of Mart.
And now at large thou leasure hast
To ruminate thy glories past.
Ambitious hopes (neuer suffis'd)
From thee are fled, and now despis'd
Now maist thou ken thy fortunes scope;
Fly warres, and in the Gods haue hope.
None now (that Armes doe vndertake)
Will spend their liues for Pompeys sake.
Whether it be of Affricke soyle
The lamentable bloody broyle,
Or Munda's battaile stain'd with gore,
Or slaughters on Ægyptian shore,
Yet after thee there will remaine
A great part of Thessalian traine.
And Pompey will not haue his name
So popular with worldly fame,
As for thy sake like warres to wage.
But from hence forth (in euery age)
The faction of the warre will be
Twixt Cæsars state and libertie:
And though that thou the warres dost flee,
The Senate to the death will fight
To hold their owne and freedomes right.
The Gods, and Roman Fates vnkinde:
293
His cursed fortune he condemned.
Whilst in the field hee stood on hye
Vpon a hill, and thence did eye
The slaughters and the troopes ramuerst
Throughout Pharsalias field disperst.
The which the fight before did hide,
He multitudes sees on his side
Of weapons, and of bodies lost,
And his owne wracke, at their blouds cost;
Yet did he not (as wretches will)
Desire the whole with him should spill.
Nor in his ruine wrap them all,
But on the heauenly powers did call,
That yet the greatest part might thriue
Of Latium blood, and him suruiue:
This is his comfort in annoy.
O Gods (quoth he) doe not destroy
So many Nations at a clappe:
The world may stand free from mishappe,
And Rome may many ages flourish,
Although that Pompey sinke and perish.
But if it so your likings please,
More woes on me to heape then these;
My wife and children yet subsist
For Fates to do with what they list.
Hath not this ciuill warre cost deere,
If I and mine must perish heere?
May not such wounds be deemed wide,
Though all the world escape beside?
O Fortune! why dost thou so racke
And labour to bring all to wracke?
Nothing is mine, I all things lacke.
So hauing said, he rides about
The Ensignes, and the Armes in rout.
And in each part throughout the lands
Sees how his squadrons broken stands:
Whom he retraits, and doth restraine
From running to their deaths amaine.
He values not himselfe so much,
294
And yet his courage did not faile
The swords and weapons to assaile,
Or put his life to hazards chance,
Or vnto death his breast aduance.
He fear'd if Pompey there should dye,
The Souldiers would no dangers flye,
But on his body heaped lye.
Besides, he fouly did despise
To lye a scorne to Cæsars eyes.
Yet if thy father-in-law affect
To cast his eyes on that prospect,
Thy head to him will be presented,
It cannot be by place preuented:
And thou his wife wert partly cause
Why from this slaughter he with-drawes
To see thy face; for Fates ordaine
That in thy sight he should be slaine.
Then he a Courser swift bestrides,
And posting from the battaile rides.
Feare makes him not to turne his backe,
His heart did neuer courage lacke:
In most distresse his minde was stout,
Nor plaints nor teares he powreth out;
But such a reuerent griefe exprest
As with a Maiesty fits best
For him, at that time to bestow
On Roman fortune brought so low:
And with like constancy beheld
The downe-falles of Emathia's field.
Nor prosperous wars could make thee proud
Nor ouer-throwes thy courage cloud,
That faithlesse Fortune (flattring thee
With glorious pompe in triumphes three)
Thou now dost scorne with lesse account,
And makes thy minde her force surmount.
Securely thou from hence dost part,
Freed from the cumbrous cares of Mart.
And now at large thou leasure hast
To ruminate thy glories past.
295
From thee are fled, and now despis'd
Now maist thou ken thy fortunes scope;
Fly warres, and in the Gods haue hope.
None now (that Armes doe vndertake)
Will spend their liues for Pompeys sake.
Whether it be of Affricke soyle
The lamentable bloody broyle,
Or Munda's battaile stain'd with gore,
Or slaughters on Ægyptian shore,
Yet after thee there will remaine
A great part of Thessalian traine.
And Pompey will not haue his name
So popular with worldly fame,
As for thy sake like warres to wage.
But from hence forth (in euery age)
The faction of the warre will be
Twixt Cæsars state and libertie:
And though that thou the warres dost flee,
The Senate to the death will fight
To hold their owne and freedomes right.
Canst thou in this finde no reliefe,
That thus repulst thou shunst the griefe
To see the slaughtred heapes that lye?
Looke backe againe, and cast thine eye
Vpon the riuers crimson staine,
Clotted with gore of bodies slaine:
Be-pitty then proud Cæsars vaine.
Thinke what remorse will straine his breast
When he shall enter Rome; opprest
With griefe, for her deare people lost,
Gain'd to Pharsalia at her cost:
When thou therefore thy selfe shalt see
Banisht in forraigne Realmes to bee,
What euer fortunes thou shalt finde,
Endure it with a manly minde:
And whatsoeuer misery
(Vnder the Pharian tyranny)
Shall thee befall, with patience dure:
And in the Gods thy hopes assure.
And as the Fates affoord their grace,
Beare with the changes of times space.
The conquest would haue harm'd the more:
Do not therefore thy hap deplore.
Forbid the people to lament;
All teares and lamentations stent.
The world will Pompey as much good
In his low ebbe, as in his flood.
O doe not now (with lookes deiected)
Behold those Kings thou hast subiected:
Suruey the Citties wonne by thee,
And kingdomes that thou gau'st in fee.
Ægypt and Lybia thou maist trye;
Chuse out the land where thou wouldst dye.
That thus repulst thou shunst the griefe
To see the slaughtred heapes that lye?
Looke backe againe, and cast thine eye
Vpon the riuers crimson staine,
Clotted with gore of bodies slaine:
Be-pitty then proud Cæsars vaine.
Thinke what remorse will straine his breast
When he shall enter Rome; opprest
With griefe, for her deare people lost,
Gain'd to Pharsalia at her cost:
When thou therefore thy selfe shalt see
Banisht in forraigne Realmes to bee,
What euer fortunes thou shalt finde,
Endure it with a manly minde:
And whatsoeuer misery
(Vnder the Pharian tyranny)
Shall thee befall, with patience dure:
And in the Gods thy hopes assure.
296
Beare with the changes of times space.
The conquest would haue harm'd the more:
Do not therefore thy hap deplore.
Forbid the people to lament;
All teares and lamentations stent.
The world will Pompey as much good
In his low ebbe, as in his flood.
O doe not now (with lookes deiected)
Behold those Kings thou hast subiected:
Suruey the Citties wonne by thee,
And kingdomes that thou gau'st in fee.
Ægypt and Lybia thou maist trye;
Chuse out the land where thou wouldst dye.
Larissas Citty was the place,
That first beheld thy noble face,
After this foyle by Fortunes scorne:
Yet saw thee not as one forlorne;
Her Citizens and chiefe estates
With all their force passe through their gates
To meet thee, as thy loyall frends,
And wayling many presents sends:
Their houses and their Temples vast
They did set open as he past:
And wish't that they had partners beene
With him, in all his bloody teene.
So as a great deale yet remain'd
Of that great name he earst retain'd.
Though lesse now then thy selfe alone,
Thy power may once againe be showne:
And Nations with thee led from farre,
So to restore thy state by warre.
But oh! (quoth he) what should a man
Whom Fates from victory do ban,
The aid of men or Townes receaue?
Vnto the Conquerour bequeaue
Your faiths, and to his fauours cleaue.
That first beheld thy noble face,
After this foyle by Fortunes scorne:
Yet saw thee not as one forlorne;
Her Citizens and chiefe estates
With all their force passe through their gates
To meet thee, as thy loyall frends,
And wayling many presents sends:
Their houses and their Temples vast
They did set open as he past:
And wish't that they had partners beene
With him, in all his bloody teene.
So as a great deale yet remain'd
Of that great name he earst retain'd.
Though lesse now then thy selfe alone,
Thy power may once againe be showne:
And Nations with thee led from farre,
So to restore thy state by warre.
But oh! (quoth he) what should a man
Whom Fates from victory do ban,
The aid of men or Townes receaue?
Vnto the Conquerour bequeaue
Your faiths, and to his fauours cleaue.
But Cæsar thou dost ouer-stride,
And march as yet on euery side
Vpon the bowels and the breasts,
As they in heaped slaughters rests
Of thine owne Countries wofull fall;
Thy son-in-law now quits thee all.
Away the Courser Pompey beares,
Follow'd with many sighes and teares;
And on the cruell Destinies
The people powre out cursed cries.
Now Pompey dost thou truly finde
The faith that thy deserts did binde:
For now the fruits thereof they show,
Prosperity no loue can know.
And march as yet on euery side
Vpon the bowels and the breasts,
297
Of thine owne Countries wofull fall;
Thy son-in-law now quits thee all.
Away the Courser Pompey beares,
Follow'd with many sighes and teares;
And on the cruell Destinies
The people powre out cursed cries.
Now Pompey dost thou truly finde
The faith that thy deserts did binde:
For now the fruits thereof they show,
Prosperity no loue can know.
When Cæsar saw of Latium gore
The fields did flote with ample store;
He bids them now forbeare their swords,
And to poore soules he grace affoords:
For all was subiect to their hands;
Twas vaine to kill those hope-lost bands
That for their liues at mercy stands.
But lest the standing Campe might be
A safe retrait to those that flee;
And to enioy the quiet night
VVithout alarmes, or new affright;
He meant to vndertake the venter
On Pompeys Campe, and it to enter
VVhilst fortune now was hot in blood,
And all in maze and terror stood;
Not doubting but his men were prest,
Herein to yeeld vnto his hest,
Although that they were all growne faint
VVith long fight, and with heate attaint.
But souldiers small perswasions need
To lead them to receiue their meed:
Or to prepare them to a pray;
Yet Cæsar thus to them did say:
Souldiers (quoth he) your valiant proes
Hath wonne full conquest on your foes:
And for the blood drawne from your vains,
Rewards and Honors now remaines.
VVhich to performe, I hold my part,
Yet that which due is to desart
I will not tearme a gift to bee:
Each one shall giue himselfe his fee.
Behold the Tents before your eyes,
Where gold and siluer heaped lies;
Here is lockt vp (in many a Chest)
The treasure taken from the west;
The pretious Easterne Implements
Doth stuffe and cloy their glorious Tents:
The Fortunes that are gotten hither
Of Pompey, and of Kings together,
Doe but attend to be a pray
Vnto the victor; haste your way
To come before them to the place,
Whom now you following haue in chase.
He said no more, but their desire
Whom greedy gaine had set on fire,
Did head-long driue them without feare,
Thorow the swords their way to teare;
And on their fathers bones to tread,
Spurning the Captaines that lay dead.
What Ditch or Rampart could suffise
To hold them out whom such a prize
And booty of the warre inuites?
They now wold know to ease their sprights
The gaines of all their bloody fights.
The fields did flote with ample store;
He bids them now forbeare their swords,
And to poore soules he grace affoords:
For all was subiect to their hands;
Twas vaine to kill those hope-lost bands
That for their liues at mercy stands.
But lest the standing Campe might be
A safe retrait to those that flee;
And to enioy the quiet night
VVithout alarmes, or new affright;
He meant to vndertake the venter
On Pompeys Campe, and it to enter
VVhilst fortune now was hot in blood,
And all in maze and terror stood;
Not doubting but his men were prest,
Herein to yeeld vnto his hest,
Although that they were all growne faint
VVith long fight, and with heate attaint.
But souldiers small perswasions need
To lead them to receiue their meed:
Or to prepare them to a pray;
Yet Cæsar thus to them did say:
Souldiers (quoth he) your valiant proes
Hath wonne full conquest on your foes:
And for the blood drawne from your vains,
Rewards and Honors now remaines.
VVhich to performe, I hold my part,
Yet that which due is to desart
298
Each one shall giue himselfe his fee.
Behold the Tents before your eyes,
Where gold and siluer heaped lies;
Here is lockt vp (in many a Chest)
The treasure taken from the west;
The pretious Easterne Implements
Doth stuffe and cloy their glorious Tents:
The Fortunes that are gotten hither
Of Pompey, and of Kings together,
Doe but attend to be a pray
Vnto the victor; haste your way
To come before them to the place,
Whom now you following haue in chase.
He said no more, but their desire
Whom greedy gaine had set on fire,
Did head-long driue them without feare,
Thorow the swords their way to teare;
And on their fathers bones to tread,
Spurning the Captaines that lay dead.
What Ditch or Rampart could suffise
To hold them out whom such a prize
And booty of the warre inuites?
They now wold know to ease their sprights
The gaines of all their bloody fights.
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