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 |  |
For all the swords that bloud did staine,
Now shed on the Pharsalian plaine;
And those reuenging swords withall,
That should in future on him fall
By force of Senatorian spight,
In dreames oppressed him this night;
So doe the furies him affright.
How liues this wretched man in feare
That doth such guilt in conscience beare,
That in his dreames he seemes to see
The Stygian ghosts about him flee,
With all the foule infernall traines
Whilst Pompey still aliue remaines?
Yet this no whit his conscience straines.
But when cleare day (with shining beames)
Bewraid Pharsalia's bloody streames,
The horror of that vgly sight
Did not his gasping eyes affright,
Nor turne them from those lothsome lands,
But lookes how thicke the riuers stands
Clotted with gore, and how likewise
As high as hilles the bodies rise,
That on the Champian heaped lies.
Of Pompeys men a tale he takes,
And in that place a feast he makes.
He pries amongst the bodies there,
What faces knowne vnto him were;
And herein great contentment found.
He could not see Emathias ground,
Nor cast his eyes vpon the plaine,
Hid with the bodies that lay slaine.
There saw he how his fortune stood,
And all his Gods clothed in blood.
And for because he would not lose
This pleasing prospect on dead foes,
Still madding in his wicked ire,
He would not giue them funerall fire.
But let them rotting there to rest,
Emathias aire so to infest.
He might haue learn'd by Hanniball,
That gaue our Consull funerall:
And how he humane rites bestowes,
(In Cannas fields) vpon his foes.
With pyles of wood to burne the dead,
Which Lybicke torches kindled.
But that sterne wroth that him enrag'd
The slaughter had not yet asswag'd.
For he remembred in his minde
The Romans were to him vnkinde,
But now we do not here desire
For euery one a single sire:
Or any glorious funerall:
Bestow but one fire on them all.
We do not seeke that they should burne
In parted flames and shared vrne.
Or if thou Pompey more wouldst spite,
All Pindus woods then hew downe quite,
And the Oetean oakes lay wast,
And make of all one pile so vast,
That he may from the seas descrie
Pharsalian flames streame in the skie.
Now shed on the Pharsalian plaine;
And those reuenging swords withall,
That should in future on him fall
By force of Senatorian spight,
In dreames oppressed him this night;
So doe the furies him affright.
How liues this wretched man in feare
That doth such guilt in conscience beare,
That in his dreames he seemes to see
The Stygian ghosts about him flee,
With all the foule infernall traines
Whilst Pompey still aliue remaines?
Yet this no whit his conscience straines.
But when cleare day (with shining beames)
Bewraid Pharsalia's bloody streames,
The horror of that vgly sight
Did not his gasping eyes affright,
Nor turne them from those lothsome lands,
But lookes how thicke the riuers stands
Clotted with gore, and how likewise
As high as hilles the bodies rise,
That on the Champian heaped lies.
Of Pompeys men a tale he takes,
And in that place a feast he makes.
He pries amongst the bodies there,
What faces knowne vnto him were;
And herein great contentment found.
He could not see Emathias ground,
Nor cast his eyes vpon the plaine,
Hid with the bodies that lay slaine.
301
And all his Gods clothed in blood.
And for because he would not lose
This pleasing prospect on dead foes,
Still madding in his wicked ire,
He would not giue them funerall fire.
But let them rotting there to rest,
Emathias aire so to infest.
He might haue learn'd by Hanniball,
That gaue our Consull funerall:
And how he humane rites bestowes,
(In Cannas fields) vpon his foes.
With pyles of wood to burne the dead,
Which Lybicke torches kindled.
But that sterne wroth that him enrag'd
The slaughter had not yet asswag'd.
For he remembred in his minde
The Romans were to him vnkinde,
But now we do not here desire
For euery one a single sire:
Or any glorious funerall:
Bestow but one fire on them all.
We do not seeke that they should burne
In parted flames and shared vrne.
Or if thou Pompey more wouldst spite,
All Pindus woods then hew downe quite,
And the Oetean oakes lay wast,
And make of all one pile so vast,
That he may from the seas descrie
Pharsalian flames streame in the skie.
This rage of thine auaileth nought,
By whatsoeuer meanes tis wrought,
That these dead bodies may consume:
For be it with a fierie fume,
Or else with time that they do rot,
And turne to dust it skilleth not.
For nature (in her louing wombe)
Doth freely mortals all intombe.
All bodies that do breath and liue,
Their end to her as debt must giue.
And though that Cæsar, in disdaine,
Their funerall fire from them detaine;
Yet when the Earth and Ocean vast
Shall be consum'd with flames at last,
One common fire the world shall haue,
And starres with humane bones engraue.
And vnto whatsoeuer place
Fortune thy flitting soule shall chase;
These soules the selfe-same way shall wend:
No higher shall thy ghost ascend,
But lodge in Stygian shade below;
No better mansion shalt thou know.
From Fortunes freakes death frees vs all,
What earth doth yeeld, earth doth recall;
And he that lies vnburied,
With heauens high cope is couered.
And thou that dost whole nations wrong
From burials, that to them belong;
Why dost thou loth these slaughtred bands,
And shunne these soild contagious lands?
Cæsar doe thou these waters drinke,
In this aire breath that so doth stinke.
But these corrupted bodies slaine
Doe take from thee Pharsalia plaine:
And in despight do hold the place,
And thence the conquerours do chase.
By whatsoeuer meanes tis wrought,
That these dead bodies may consume:
For be it with a fierie fume,
Or else with time that they do rot,
And turne to dust it skilleth not.
For nature (in her louing wombe)
Doth freely mortals all intombe.
All bodies that do breath and liue,
302
And though that Cæsar, in disdaine,
Their funerall fire from them detaine;
Yet when the Earth and Ocean vast
Shall be consum'd with flames at last,
One common fire the world shall haue,
And starres with humane bones engraue.
And vnto whatsoeuer place
Fortune thy flitting soule shall chase;
These soules the selfe-same way shall wend:
No higher shall thy ghost ascend,
But lodge in Stygian shade below;
No better mansion shalt thou know.
From Fortunes freakes death frees vs all,
What earth doth yeeld, earth doth recall;
And he that lies vnburied,
With heauens high cope is couered.
And thou that dost whole nations wrong
From burials, that to them belong;
Why dost thou loth these slaughtred bands,
And shunne these soild contagious lands?
Cæsar doe thou these waters drinke,
In this aire breath that so doth stinke.
But these corrupted bodies slaine
Doe take from thee Pharsalia plaine:
And in despight do hold the place,
And thence the conquerours do chase.
But to this carnage for their food
Thither repaires with rauening mood
The Thracian wolues, that vent from farre
The bloud of this Æmonian warre:
The Lyons come from Pholoen,
And doe forsake their haunted denne
To quench in gore their thirsting iawes,
Whom sent of slaughter thither drawes.
The grisly Beares do leaue their caues,
And on these festred bodies raues:
The filthy dogges forsake their homes,
And all about these fat fields romes:
And whatsoeuer else by kinde,
With senting nose can sauors winde,
When as the aire is putrifide
With carkasses long mortifide.
And hither flocks of fowles do throng,
That both the camps had followed long.
And those same birds that change the aire
Of Thracian cold, and do repaire
Vnto the gentle Southerne blast,
Where they the streames of Nylus tast.
So many vultures thither flie,
As neuer earst did clowd the skie.
With other rauenous foules of pray,
Which euery wood sent day by day.
And to the branches, boughs, and leaues,
The clotterd gore and bowels cleaues
That these birds brings, and oft withall,
Vpon the victors heads doth fall.
And on those wicked ensignes borne,
The flesh and guts that they had torne,
Which from their weary talents slip,
Hauing got more then they could grip.
Neither could they so sharke and share
The flesh, whereby the bones were bare.
All was not made a pray to beasts,
They were so glutted with these feasts,
As that they now began to loath
The inwards and the marrow both.
And onely on choise morsels feede,
Most of the lims of Latium breede.
Vnto long time to wet and heate
They left to rot and would not eate.
So as whole troops in heaped bands,
Lay festring there, and dung'd the lands.
O Most vnhappy Thessaly!
How hast thou wrong'd the Gods on hie,
That thou shouldst be so pestered
With cruell slaughters and bloodshed?
What future age or tract of time,
May well repaire this bloody crime,
Or lodge this in obliuous graue?
VVhat corn bringst thou that shal not haue
(Vpon his blade) a bloody staine,
To shew these slaughters in thy graine?
VVhat plow-share can here furrows rend
But they will Roman ghosts offend?
And yet new armies here shal meet,
And with like rage each other greete:
Before that euer thou canst drye
The blood, that in thee now doth lie.
Should we our sires sepulchers rake.
And of their tombes a ruine make?
Searching the depth to find the chest,
And lay all open where they rest?
More cynders yet there would be found
Turnd vp in the Æmonian ground,
By force of crooked cultors share,
VVhen as the plowman tilleth there,
And more bones spuing out their marrow,
Crusht with the iron-toothed harrow.
No marriner though tempest tost
VVould euer anchor on this coast.
No tilsman would plow vp these fields,
That vnto Romans buriall yeelds.
Their ghosts wold cause the peasants quake
The droues the pastures would fosake.
The shepheards durst not be so bold
Their fleecie flocks to feede and fold
That they their hunger might suffise
On grasse, that from our bowels rise.
But thou Emathia as forlorne.
VVouldst humane races hold in scorne.
As if thou wert that torrid soyle.
That Phœbus beams doth alwaies broile.
Or else that frozen ycie land
That vnderneath the pole doth stand.
Vnknowne so wouldst thou lie vnman'd.
Had this bene but thy first wars blame,
Not seconded with like defame:
O Gods if that we may detest
A land were wickednesse doth rest!
Why doth this soyle the world oppresse,
And so bring mankinde to distresse?
The bloudy battell fought in Spaine,
The horrors on Pachinus maine,
Mutinas, and the Lucan fleetes
Do wipe away Philippos greetes.
Thither repaires with rauening mood
The Thracian wolues, that vent from farre
The bloud of this Æmonian warre:
The Lyons come from Pholoen,
And doe forsake their haunted denne
To quench in gore their thirsting iawes,
Whom sent of slaughter thither drawes.
The grisly Beares do leaue their caues,
And on these festred bodies raues:
The filthy dogges forsake their homes,
And all about these fat fields romes:
303
With senting nose can sauors winde,
When as the aire is putrifide
With carkasses long mortifide.
And hither flocks of fowles do throng,
That both the camps had followed long.
And those same birds that change the aire
Of Thracian cold, and do repaire
Vnto the gentle Southerne blast,
Where they the streames of Nylus tast.
So many vultures thither flie,
As neuer earst did clowd the skie.
With other rauenous foules of pray,
Which euery wood sent day by day.
And to the branches, boughs, and leaues,
The clotterd gore and bowels cleaues
That these birds brings, and oft withall,
Vpon the victors heads doth fall.
And on those wicked ensignes borne,
The flesh and guts that they had torne,
Which from their weary talents slip,
Hauing got more then they could grip.
Neither could they so sharke and share
The flesh, whereby the bones were bare.
All was not made a pray to beasts,
They were so glutted with these feasts,
As that they now began to loath
The inwards and the marrow both.
And onely on choise morsels feede,
Most of the lims of Latium breede.
Vnto long time to wet and heate
They left to rot and would not eate.
So as whole troops in heaped bands,
Lay festring there, and dung'd the lands.
O Most vnhappy Thessaly!
How hast thou wrong'd the Gods on hie,
That thou shouldst be so pestered
With cruell slaughters and bloodshed?
What future age or tract of time,
304
Or lodge this in obliuous graue?
VVhat corn bringst thou that shal not haue
(Vpon his blade) a bloody staine,
To shew these slaughters in thy graine?
VVhat plow-share can here furrows rend
But they will Roman ghosts offend?
And yet new armies here shal meet,
And with like rage each other greete:
Before that euer thou canst drye
The blood, that in thee now doth lie.
Should we our sires sepulchers rake.
And of their tombes a ruine make?
Searching the depth to find the chest,
And lay all open where they rest?
More cynders yet there would be found
Turnd vp in the Æmonian ground,
By force of crooked cultors share,
VVhen as the plowman tilleth there,
And more bones spuing out their marrow,
Crusht with the iron-toothed harrow.
No marriner though tempest tost
VVould euer anchor on this coast.
No tilsman would plow vp these fields,
That vnto Romans buriall yeelds.
Their ghosts wold cause the peasants quake
The droues the pastures would fosake.
The shepheards durst not be so bold
Their fleecie flocks to feede and fold
That they their hunger might suffise
On grasse, that from our bowels rise.
But thou Emathia as forlorne.
VVouldst humane races hold in scorne.
As if thou wert that torrid soyle.
That Phœbus beams doth alwaies broile.
Or else that frozen ycie land
That vnderneath the pole doth stand.
Vnknowne so wouldst thou lie vnman'd.
Had this bene but thy first wars blame,
305
O Gods if that we may detest
A land were wickednesse doth rest!
Why doth this soyle the world oppresse,
And so bring mankinde to distresse?
The bloudy battell fought in Spaine,
The horrors on Pachinus maine,
Mutinas, and the Lucan fleetes
Do wipe away Philippos greetes.
| Lvcans Pharsalia | |