What rolling years, what ages, can repay

The multitudes thy wars have swept away!

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Though tombs and urns their numerous ftore fhould fpread,

And long antiquity yield all her dead;"

Thy guilty plains more flaughter'd Romans hold,
Than all thofe tombs, and all thofe urns, infold. 1200
Hence bloody fpots fhall ftain thy graffy green,
And crimson drops on bladed corn be seen :
Each plowshare fome dead patriot fhall moleft,
Disturb his bones, and rob his ghost of rest.
Oh! had the guilt of war been all thy own,
Were civil rage confin'd to thee alone;
No mariner his labouring bark should moor,
In hopes of fafety, on thy dreadful shore;

No fwain thy spectre-haunted plain should know,
Nor turn thy blood-ftain'd fallow with his plow: 1210
No fhepherd e'er fhould drive his flock to feed,
Where Romans flain enrich the verdant mead:

All defolate should lie thy land and waste,
As in fome fcorch'd or frozen region plac'd.

But the great gods forbid our partial hate
On Theffaly's diftinguifh'd land to wait;
New blood, and other flaughters, they decree,
And others fhall be guilty too, like thee.
Munda and Mutina fhall boaft their flain,
Pachynus' waters fhare the purple stain,
And Actium juftify Pharfalia's plain.

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LUCAN'S

LUCAN'S PHARSALIA.

BOOK

VIII.

THE ARGUMENT.

From Pharfalia, Pompey flies, first to Lariffa, and after to the fea-fhore; where he embarks upon a fmail veffel for Lefbos. There, after a melancholy meeting with Cornelia, and his refufal of the Mitylenians invitations, he embarks with his wife for the coaft of Afia. In the way thither he is joined by his fon Sextus, and feveral perfons of distinction, who had fled likewife from the late battle; and among the reft by Deiotarus, king of Gallo-Græcia. To him he recommends the foliciting of fupplies from the king of Parthia, and the reft of his allies in Afia. After coafting Cilicia for fome time, he comes at length to a little town called Syedra or Syedre, where great part of the fenate meet him. With thefe, he deliberates upon the prefent circumftances of the commonwealth, and propofes either Mauritania, Ægypt, or Parthia, as the proper places where he may hope to be received, and from whofe kings he may expect affiftance. In his own opinion he inclines to the Parthians; but this Lentulus, in a long oration, oppofes very warmly; and, in confideration of young Ptolemy's perfonal obligations to Pompey, prefers Egypt. This advice is generally approved and followed, and Pompey fets fail accordingly for Ægypt. Upon his arrival on that coaft, the king calls a council, where at the inftigation of Pothinus, a villainous minifter, it is refolved to take his life; and the execution of this order is committed to the care of Achillas, formerly the king's governor, and then general

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general of the army. He, with Septimius, a renegado Roman foldier, who had formerly ferved under Pompey, upon fome frivolous pretences, perfuades him to quit his fhip, and come into their boat; where, as they make towards the fhore, he trea -cherously murders him, in the fight of his wife, his fon, and the rest of his fleet. His head is cut off, and his body thrown into the fea. The head is fixed upon a fpear, and carried to Ptolemy; who, after he had feen it, commands it to be embalmed. In the fucceeding night, one Cordus, who had been a follower of Pompey, finds the trunk floating near the fhore, brings it to land with fome difficulty; and, with a few planks that remained from a fhipwrecked veffel, burns it. The melancholy defcription of this mean funeral, with the poet's invective against the gods, and fortune, for their unworthy treatment of fo great a man, concludes this book.

Now through the vale, by great Alcides made,

And the sweet maze of Tempe's pleasing shade,

Chearless, thy flying chief renew'd his speed,
And urg'd, with gory fpurs, his fainting fteed.
Fall'n from the former greatnefs of his mind,
He turns where doubtful paths obscurely wind.
The fellows of his flight increase his dread,
While hard behind the trampling horsemen tread :
He starts at every rustling of the trees,

s

And fears the whispers of each murmuring breeze. re
He feels not yet, alas! his loft estate;

And, though he flies, believes himself still great;.
Imagines millions for his life are bid,

And rates his own, as he would Cæfar's head.

Where

Where-e'er his fear explores untrodden ways,
His well-known vifage ftill his flight betrays.
Many he meets unknowing of his chance,
Whofe gathering forces to his aid advance.
With gaze aftonifh'd, thefe their chief behold,
And fcarce believe what by himself is told.
In vain, to covert, from the world he flies,
Fortune ftill grieves him with pursuing eyes:
Still aggravates, ftill urges his difgrace,

And galls him with the thoughts of what he was.
His youthful triumph fadly now returns,

His Pontic and piratic wars he mourns,

While ftung with fecret fhame and anxious care he burns.

Thus age to forrows oft the great betrays,

When lofs of empire comes with length of days.

Life and enjoyment ftill one end shall have,
Left early mifery prevent the grave,

The good, that lafts not, was in vain beftow'd,
And ease once past becomes the present load :
Then let the wife, in fortune's kindest hour,
Still keep one fafe retreat within his power;
Let death be near, to guard him from furprize,
And free him, when the fickle goddess flies.

Now to thofe fhores the hapless Pompey came,
Where hoary Peneus rolls his ancient stream:
Red with Emathian flaughter ran his flood,
And dy'd the ocean deep in Roman blood.
There a poor bark, whofe keel perhaps might glide
Safe down fome river's fmooth defcending tide,

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Receiv'd

Receiv'd the mighty mafter of the main,

Whofe spreading navies hide the liquid plain.
In this he braves the winds and ftormy fea,
And to the Lesbian ifle directs his way.
There the kind partner of his every care,
His faithful, lov'd Cornelia, languish'd there:
At that fad distance more unhappy far,
Than in the midst of danger, death, and war.
There on her heart, ev'n all the live-long day,
Foreboding thought a weary burden lay :
Sad vifions haunt her flumbers with affright,
And Theffaly returns with every night.
Soon as the ruddy morning paints the skies,
Swift to the fhore the penfive mourner flies;
There, lonely fitting on the cliff's bleak brow,
Her fight the fixes on the feas below;
Attentive marks the wide horizon's bound,
And kens each fail that rifes in the round:

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Thick beats her heart, as every prow draws near,

And dreads the fortunes of her lord to hear.

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At length, behold! the fatal bark is come!
See! the fwoln canvas labouring with her doom.
Preventing fame, misfortune lends him wings,
And Pompey's self his own sad story brings.
Now bid thy eyes, thou loft Cornelia, flow,
And change thy fears to certain forrows, now.
Swift glides the woeful veffel on to land;
Forth flies the headlong matron to the ftrand.
There foon fhe found what worft the gods could do,
There foon her dear much-alter'd lord fhe knew;
Though fearful all and ghaftly was his hue.

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Rude