Pharsalia [79]
war
Came all the beasts of earth whose facile sense
Of odour tracks the bodies of the slain.
Sped from his northern home the Thracian wolf;
Bears left their dens and lions from afar
Scenting the carnage; dogs obscene and foul
Their homes deserted: all the air was full
Of gathering fowl, who in their flight had long
Pursued the armies. Cranes (29) who yearly change
The frosts of Thracia for the banks of Nile,
This year delayed their voyage. As ne'er before
The air grew dark with vultures' hovering wings,
Innumerable, for every grove and wood
Sent forth its denizens; on every tree
Dripped from their crimsoned beaks a gory dew.
Oft on the conquerors and their impious arms
Or purple rain of blood, or mouldering flesh
Fell from the lofty heaven; or limbs of men
From weary talons dropped. Yet even so
The peoples passed not all into the maw
Of ravening beast or fowl; the inmost flesh
Scarce did they touch, nor limbs -- thus lay the dead
Scorned by the spoiler; and the Roman host
By sun and length of days, and rain from heaven,
At length was mingled with Emathia's plain.
Ill-starred Thessalia! By what hateful crime
Didst thou offend that thus on thee alone
Was laid such carnage? By what length of years
Shalt thou be cleansed from the curse of war?
When shall the harvest of thy fields arise
Free from their purple stain? And when the share
Cease to upturn the slaughtered hosts of Rome?
First shall the battle onset sound again,
Again shall flow upon thy fated earth
A crimson torrent. Thus may be o'erthrown
Our sires' memorials; those erected last,
Or those which pierced by ancient roots have spread
Through broken stones their sacred urns abroad.
Thus shall the ploughman of Haemonia gaze
On more abundant ashes, and the rake
Pass o'er more frequent bones. Wert, Thracia, thou.
Our only battlefield, no sailor's hand
Upon thy shore should make his cable fast;
No spade should turn, the husbandman should flee
Thy fields, the resting-place of Roman dead;
No lowing kine should graze, nor shepherd dare
To leave his fleecy charge to browse at will
On fields made fertile by our mouldering dust;
All bare and unexplored thy soil should lie,
As past man's footsteps, parched by cruel suns,
Or palled by snows unmelting! But, ye gods,
Give us to hate the lands which bear the guilt;
Let not all earth be cursed, though not all
Be blameless found.
'Twas thus that Munda's fight
And blood of Mutina, and Leucas' cape,
And sad Pachynus, (30) made Philippi pure.
ENDNOTES:
(1) "It is, methinks, a morning full of fate!
It riseth slowly, as her sullen car
Had all the weight of sleep and death hung at it!"
...
And her sick head is bound about with clouds
As if she threatened night ere noon of day."
-- Ben Jonson, "Catiline", i., 1.
(2) See Book VI., 577.
(3) As to the sun finding fuel in the clouds, see Book I., line
471.
(4) Pompeius triumphed first in 81 B.C. for his victories in
Sicily and Africa, at the age of twenty-four. Sulla at
first objected, but finally yielded and said, "Let him
triumph then in God's name." The triumph for the defeat of
Sertorius was not till 71 B.C., in which year Pompeius was
elected Consul along with Crassus. (Compare Book IX., 709.)
(5) These two lines are taken from Ben Jonson's "Catiline", act
v., scene 6.
(6) The volcanic district of Campania, scene of the fabled
battle of the giants. (See Book IV., 666.)
(7) Henceforth to be the standards of the Emperor.
(8) A lake at the foot of Mount Ossa. Pindus, Ossa, Olympus,
and, above all, Haemus (the Balkans) were at a long distance
from Pharsalia. Comp. Book VI., 677.
(9) Gades (Cadiz) is stated to have been founded by the
Phoenicians about 1000 B.C.
(10) This alludes to the story told by Plutarch ("Caesar", 47)
that, at Patavium, Caius Cornelius, a man reputed for skill
in divination, and a friend of Livy the historian,
Came all the beasts of earth whose facile sense
Of odour tracks the bodies of the slain.
Sped from his northern home the Thracian wolf;
Bears left their dens and lions from afar
Scenting the carnage; dogs obscene and foul
Their homes deserted: all the air was full
Of gathering fowl, who in their flight had long
Pursued the armies. Cranes (29) who yearly change
The frosts of Thracia for the banks of Nile,
This year delayed their voyage. As ne'er before
The air grew dark with vultures' hovering wings,
Innumerable, for every grove and wood
Sent forth its denizens; on every tree
Dripped from their crimsoned beaks a gory dew.
Oft on the conquerors and their impious arms
Or purple rain of blood, or mouldering flesh
Fell from the lofty heaven; or limbs of men
From weary talons dropped. Yet even so
The peoples passed not all into the maw
Of ravening beast or fowl; the inmost flesh
Scarce did they touch, nor limbs -- thus lay the dead
Scorned by the spoiler; and the Roman host
By sun and length of days, and rain from heaven,
At length was mingled with Emathia's plain.
Ill-starred Thessalia! By what hateful crime
Didst thou offend that thus on thee alone
Was laid such carnage? By what length of years
Shalt thou be cleansed from the curse of war?
When shall the harvest of thy fields arise
Free from their purple stain? And when the share
Cease to upturn the slaughtered hosts of Rome?
First shall the battle onset sound again,
Again shall flow upon thy fated earth
A crimson torrent. Thus may be o'erthrown
Our sires' memorials; those erected last,
Or those which pierced by ancient roots have spread
Through broken stones their sacred urns abroad.
Thus shall the ploughman of Haemonia gaze
On more abundant ashes, and the rake
Pass o'er more frequent bones. Wert, Thracia, thou.
Our only battlefield, no sailor's hand
Upon thy shore should make his cable fast;
No spade should turn, the husbandman should flee
Thy fields, the resting-place of Roman dead;
No lowing kine should graze, nor shepherd dare
To leave his fleecy charge to browse at will
On fields made fertile by our mouldering dust;
All bare and unexplored thy soil should lie,
As past man's footsteps, parched by cruel suns,
Or palled by snows unmelting! But, ye gods,
Give us to hate the lands which bear the guilt;
Let not all earth be cursed, though not all
Be blameless found.
'Twas thus that Munda's fight
And blood of Mutina, and Leucas' cape,
And sad Pachynus, (30) made Philippi pure.
ENDNOTES:
(1) "It is, methinks, a morning full of fate!
It riseth slowly, as her sullen car
Had all the weight of sleep and death hung at it!"
...
And her sick head is bound about with clouds
As if she threatened night ere noon of day."
-- Ben Jonson, "Catiline", i., 1.
(2) See Book VI., 577.
(3) As to the sun finding fuel in the clouds, see Book I., line
471.
(4) Pompeius triumphed first in 81 B.C. for his victories in
Sicily and Africa, at the age of twenty-four. Sulla at
first objected, but finally yielded and said, "Let him
triumph then in God's name." The triumph for the defeat of
Sertorius was not till 71 B.C., in which year Pompeius was
elected Consul along with Crassus. (Compare Book IX., 709.)
(5) These two lines are taken from Ben Jonson's "Catiline", act
v., scene 6.
(6) The volcanic district of Campania, scene of the fabled
battle of the giants. (See Book IV., 666.)
(7) Henceforth to be the standards of the Emperor.
(8) A lake at the foot of Mount Ossa. Pindus, Ossa, Olympus,
and, above all, Haemus (the Balkans) were at a long distance
from Pharsalia. Comp. Book VI., 677.
(9) Gades (Cadiz) is stated to have been founded by the
Phoenicians about 1000 B.C.
(10) This alludes to the story told by Plutarch ("Caesar", 47)
that, at Patavium, Caius Cornelius, a man reputed for skill
in divination, and a friend of Livy the historian,