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UNEQUAL thus to Cæsar, Pompey yields
The fair dominion of Hesperia's fields : Swift through Apulia march his flying powers, And seek the safety of Brundusium's towers.
This city a Dictæan people hold, Here placed by tall Athenian barks of old; When with false omens from the Cretan shore, Their sable sails victorious Theseus bore. Here Italy a narrow length extends, And in a scanty slip projected ends. A crooked mole around the waves she winds, And in her folds the Adriatic binds. Nor yet the bending shores could form a bay, Did not a barrier isle the winds delay, And break the seas tempestuous in their way. Huge mounds of rocks are placed by nature's hand, To guard around the hospitable strand; To turn the storm, repulse the rushing tide, And bid the anchoring bark securely ride. Hence Nereus wide the liquid main displays, And spreads to various ports his watery ways; Whether the pilot from Corcyra stand, Or for Illyrian Epidamnus' strand. Hither when all the Adriatic roars, And thundering billows vex the double shores ;
When sable clouds around the welkin spread,
Lucan. Tr. Nicholas Rowe.
Busento, the River.
THE GRAVE IN THE BUSENTO.
, songs of wail at midnight wake Busento’s
, O’er the wave resounds the answer, and amid the vor
tex' roar !
Valiant Goths, like spectres, steal along the banks with
Weeping over Alaric dead, the best, the bravest of his
Ah! too soon, from home so far, was it their lot to
dig his grave, While still o'er his shoulders flowed his youthful ring
lets' flaxen wave.
On the shore of the Busento ranged, they with each
other vied, As they dug another bed to turn the torrent's course In the waveless hollow turning o'er and o'er the sod,
the corse Deep into the earth they sank, in armor clad, upon
Covered then with earth again the horse and rider in
That above the hero's tomb the torrent's lofty plants
And, a second time diverted, was the flood conducted
back, Foaming rushed Busento's billows onwards in their
And a warrior chorus sang, “ Sleep with thy honors,
hero brave ! “ Ne’er shall foot of lucre-lusting Roman desecrate thy
grave ! ”
Far and wide the songs of praise resounded in the
Gothic host; Bear them on, Busento's billow, bear them on from coast to coast !
August von Platen. Tr. Alfred Baskerville.
Doth Alaric slumber with the dead ?
a grave alone.
The land where heaven unclouded sbines,
Hath well obeyed his lord's command.
Then the freed current's rushing wave