Book X

Caesar in Egypt

When Caesar, following those who bore the head,First trod the shore accursed, with Egypt’s fatesHis fortunes battled, whether Rome should passIn crimson conquest o’er the guilty land,Or Memphis’ arms should ravish from the worldVictor and vanquished: and the warning shadeOf Magnus saved his kinsman from the sword.

First, by the crime assured, his standards borneBefore, he marched upon the Pharian town;But when the people, jealous of their laws,Murmured against the fasces, Caesar knewTheir minds were adverse, and that not for himWas Magnus’ murder wrought.  And yet with browDissembling fear, intrepid, through the shrinesOf Egypt’s gods he strode, and round the faneOf ancient Isis; bearing witness allTo Macedon’s vigour in the days of old.Yet did nor gold nor ornament restrainHis hasting steps, nor worship of the gods,Nor city ramparts: but in greed of gainHe sought the cave dug out amid the tombs. (1)The madman offspring there of Philip liesThe famed Pellaean robber, fortune’s friend,Snatched off by fate, avenging so the world.In sacred sepulchre the hero’s limbs,Which should be scattered o’er the earth, repose,Still spared by Fortune to these tyrant days:For in a world to freedom once recalled,All men had mocked the dust of him who setThe baneful lesson that so many landsCan serve one master.  Macedon he leftHis home obscure; Athena he despisedThe conquest of his sire, and spurred by fateThrough Asia rushed with havoc of mankind,Plunging his sword through peoples; streams unknownRan red with Persian and with Indian blood.Curse of all earth and thunderbolt of illTo every nation!  On the outer sea (2)He launched his fleet to sail the ocean wave:Nor flame nor flood nor sterile Libyan sandsStayed back his course, nor Hammon’s pathless shoals;Far to the west, where downward slopes the worldHe would have led his armies, and the polesHad compassed, and had drunk the fount of Nile:But came his latest day; such end aloneCould nature place upon the madman king,Who jealous in death as when he won the worldHis empire with him took, nor left an heir.Thus every city to the spoiler’s handWas victim made: Yet in his fall was hisBabylon; and Parthia feared him.  Shame on usThat eastern nations dreaded more the lanceOf Macedon than now the Roman spear.True that we rule beyond where takes its riseThe burning southern breeze, beyond the homesOf western winds, and to the northern star;But towards the rising of the sun, we yieldTo him who kept the Arsacids in awe;And puny Pella held as province sureThe Parthia fatal to our Roman arms.

Now from the stream Pelusian of the Nile,Was come the boyish king, taming the rageOf his effeminate people: pledge of peace;And Caesar safely trod Pellaean halls;When Cleopatra bribed her guard to breakThe harbour chains, and borne in little boatWithin the Macedonian palace gates,Caesar unknowing, entered: Egypt’s shame;Fury of Latium; to the bane of RomeUnchaste.  For as the Spartan queen of yoreBy fatal beauty Argos urged to strifeAnd Ilium’s homes, so Cleopatra rousedItalia’s frenzy.  By her drum (3) she calledDown on the Capitol terror (if to speakSuch word be lawful); mixed with Roman armsCoward Canopus, hoping she might leadA Pharian triumph, Caesar in her train;And ’twas in doubt upon Leucadian (4) wavesWhether a woman, not of Roman blood,Should hold the world in awe.  Such lofty thoughtsSeized on her soul upon that night in whichThe wanton daughter of Pellaean kingsFirst shared our leaders’ couches.  Who shall blameAntonius for the madness of his love,When Caesar’s haughty breast drew in the flame?Who red with carnage, ‘mid the clash of arms,In palace haunted by Pompeius’ shade,Gave place to love; and in adulterous bed,Magnus forgotten, from the Queen impure,To Julia gave a brother: on the bounds,Of furthest Libya permitting thusHis foe to gather: he in dalliance baseWaited upon his mistress, and to herPharos would give, for her would conquer all.

Then Cleopatra, trusting to her charms,Tearless approached him, though in form of grief;Her tresses loose as though in sorrow torn,So best becoming her; and thus began:“If, mighty Caesar, aught to noble birthBe due, give ear.  Of Lagian race am IOffspring illustrious; from my father’s throneCast forth to banishment; unless thy handRestore to me the sceptre: then a QueenFalls at thy feet embracing.  To our raceBright star of justice thou!  Nor first shall IAs woman rule the cities of the Nile;For, neither sex preferring, Pharos bowsTo queenly governance.  Of my parted sireRead the last words, by which ’tis mine to shareWith equal rights the kingdom and the bed.And loves the boy his sister, were he free;But his affections and his sword alikePothinus orders.  Nor wish I myselfTo wield my father’s power; but this my prayer:Save from this foul disgrace our royal house,Bid that the king shall reign, and from the courtRemove this hateful varlet, and his arms.How swells his bosom for that his the handThat shore Pompeius’ head!  And now he threatsThee, Caesar, also; which the Fates avert!’Twas shame enough upon the earth and theeThat of Pothinus Magnus should have beenThe guilt or merit.”

Caesar’s ears in vainHad she implored, but aided by her charmsThe wanton’s prayers prevailed, and by a nightOf shame ineffable, passed with her judge,She won his favour.

When between the pair (5)Caesar had made a peace, by costliest giftsPurchased, a banquet of such glad eventMade fit memorial; and with pomp the QueenDisplayed her luxuries, as yet unknownTo Roman fashions.  First uprose the hallLike to a fane which this corrupted ageCould scarcely rear: the lofty ceiling shoneWith richest tracery, the beams were boundIn golden coverings; no scant veneerLay on its walls, but built in solid blocksOf marble, gleamed the palace.  Agate stoodIn sturdy columns, bearing up the roof;Onyx and porphyry on the spacious floorWere trodden ’neath the foot; the mighty gatesOf Maröe’s throughout were formed,No mere adornment; ivory clothed the hall,And fixed upon the doors with labour rareShells of the tortoise gleamed, from Indian seas,With frequent emeralds studded.  Gems of priceAnd yellow jasper on the couches shone.Lustrous the coverlets; the major partDipped more than once within the vats of TyreHad drunk their juice: part feathered as with gold;Part crimson dyed, in manner as are passedThrough Pharian leash the threads.  There waited slavesIn number as a people, some in ranksBy different blood distinguished, some by age;This band with Libyan, that with auburn hairRed so that Caesar on the banks of RhineNone such had witnessed; some with features scorchedBy torrid suns, their locks in twisted coilsDrawn from their foreheads.  Eunuchs too were there,Unhappy race; and on the other sideMen of full age whose cheeks with growth of hairWere hardly darkened.

Upon either handLay kings, and Caesar in the midst supreme.There in her fatal beauty lay the QueenThick daubed with unguents, nor with throne contentNor with her brother spouse; laden she layOn neck and hair with all the Red Sea spoils,And faint beneath the weight of gems and gold.Her snowy breast shone through Sidonian lawnWhich woven close by shuttles of the eastThe art of Nile had loosened.  Ivory feetBore citron tables brought from woods that wave (6)On Atlas, such as Caesar never sawWhen Juba was his captive.  Blind in soulBy madness of ambition, thus to fireBy such profusion of her wealth, the mindOf Caesar armed, her guest in civil war!Not though he aimed with pitiless hand to graspThe riches of a world; not though were hereThose ancient leaders of the simple age,Fabricius or Curius stern of soul,Or he who, Consul, left in sordid garbHis Tuscan plough, could all their several hopesHave risen to such spoil.  On plates of goldThey piled the banquet sought in earth and airAnd from the deepest seas and Nilus’ waves,Through all the world; in craving for display,No hunger urging.  Frequent birds and beasts,Egypt’s high gods, they placed upon the board:In crystal goblets water of the NileThey handed, and in massive cups of priceWas poured the wine; no juice of Mareot grape (7)But noble vintage of Falernian growthWhich in few years in Meröe’s vats had foamed,(For such the clime) to ripeness.  On their browsChaplets were placed of roses ever youngWith glistening nard entwined; and in their locksWas cinnamon infused, not yet in airIts fragrance perished, nor in foreign climes;And rich amomum from the neighbouring fields.Thus Caesar learned the booty of a worldTo lavish, and his breast was shamed of warWaged with his son-in-law for meagre spoil,And with the Pharian realm he longed to findA cause of battle.

When of wine and feastThey wearied and their pleasure found an end,Caesar drew out in colloquy the nightThus with Achoreus, on the highest couchWith linen ephod as a priest begirt:“O thou devoted to all sacred rites,Loved by the gods, as proves thy length of days,Tell, if thou wilt, whence sprang the Pharian race;How lie their lands, the manners of their tribes,The form and worship of their deities.Expound the sculptures on your ancient fanes:Reveal your gods if willing to be known:If to th’ Athenian sage your fathers taughtTheir mysteries, who worthier than ITo bear in trust the secrets of the world?True, by the rumour of my kinsman’s flightHere was I drawn; yet also by your fame:And even in the midst of war’s alarmsThe stars and heavenly spaces have I conned;Nor shall Eudoxus’ year (8) excel mine own.But though such ardour burns within my breast,Such zeal to know the truth, yet my chief wishTo learn the source of your mysterious floodThrough ages hidden: give me certain hopeTo see the fount of Nile—and civil warThen shall I leave.”

He spake, and then the priest:“The secrets, Caesar, of our mighty sires (9)Kept from the common people until nowI hold it right to utter.  Some may deemThat silence on these wonders of the earthWere greater piety.  But to the godsI hold it grateful that their handiworkAnd sacred edicts should be known to men.

“A different power by the primal law,Each star possesses: (10) these alone controlThe movement of the sky, with adverse forceOpposing: while the sun divides the year,And day from night, and by his potent raysForbids the stars to pass their stated course.The moon by her alternate phases setsThe varying limits of the sea and shore.’Neath Saturn’s sway the zone of ice and snowHas passed; while Mars in lightning’s fitful flamesAnd winds abounds’ beneath high JupiterUnvexed by storms abides a temperate air;And fruitful Venus’ star contains the seedsOf all things.  Ruler of the boundless deepThe god (11) Cyllenian: whene’er he holdsThat part of heaven where the Lion dwellsWith neighbouring Cancer joined, and Sirius starFlames in its fury; where the circular path(Which marks the changes of the varying year)Gives to hot Cancer and to CapricornTheir several stations, under which doth lieThe fount of Nile, he, master of the waves,Strikes with his beam the waters.  Forth the streamBrims from his fount, as Ocean when the moonCommands an increase; nor shall curb his flowTill night wins back her losses from the sun. (12)

“Vain is the ancient faith that Ethiop snows (13)Send Nile abundant forth upon the lands.Those mountains know nor northern wind nor star.Of this are proof the breezes of the South,Fraught with warm vapours, and the people’s hueBurned dark by suns: and ’tis in time of spring,When first are thawed the snows, that ice-fed streamsIn swollen torrents tumble; but the NileNor lifts his wave before the Dog star burns;Nor seeks again his banks, until the sunIn equal balance measures night and day.Nor are the laws that govern other streamsObeyed by Nile.  For in the wintry yearWere he in flood, when distant far the sun,His waters lacked their office; but he leavesHis channel when the summer is at height,Tempering the torrid heat of Egypt’s clime.Such is the task of Nile; thus in the worldHe finds his purpose, lest exceeding heatConsume the lands: and rising thus to meetEnkindled Lion, to Syene’s prayersBy Cancer burnt gives ear; nor curbs his waveTill the slant sun and Meröe’s lengthening shadesProclaim the autumn.  Who shall give the cause?’Twas Parent Nature’s self which gave commandThus for the needs of earth should flow the Nile.

“Vain too the fable that the western winds (14)Control his current, in continuous courseAt stated seasons governing the air;Or hurrying from Occident to SouthClouds without number which in misty foldsPress on the waters; or by constant blast,Forcing his current back whose several mouthsBurst on the sea;—so, forced by seas and wind,Men say, his billows pour upon the land.Some speak of hollow caverns, breathing holesDeep in the earth, within whose mighty jawsWaters in noiseless current underneathFrom northern cold to southern climes are drawn:And when hot Meröe pants beneath the sun,Then, say they, Ganges through the silent depthsAnd Padus pass: and from a single fountThe Nile arising not in single streamsPours all the rivers forth.  And rumour saysThat when the sea which girdles in the world (15)O’erflows, thence rushes Nile, by lengthy course,Softening his saltness.  More, if it be trueThat ocean feeds the sun and heavenly fires,Then Phoebus journeying by the burning CrabSucks from its waters more than air can holdUpon his passage—this the cool of nightPours on the Nile.

“If, Caesar, ’tis my partTo judge such difference, ‘twould seem that sinceCreation’s age has passed, earth’s veins by chanceSome waters hold, and shaken cast them forth:But others took when first the globe was formedA sure abode; by Him who framed the worldFixed with the Universe.

“And, Roman, thou,In thirsting thus to know the source of NileDost as the Pharian and Persian kingsAnd those of Macedon; nor any ageRefused the secret, but the place prevailedRemote by nature.  Greatest of the kingsBy Memphis worshipped, Alexander grudged (16)To Nile its mystery, and to furthest earthSent chosen Ethiops whom the crimson zoneStayed in their further march, while flowed his streamWarm at their feet.  Sesostris (17) westward farReached, to the ends of earth; and necks of kingsBent ’neath his chariot yoke: but of the springsWhich fill your rivers, Rhone and Po, he drank.Not of the fount of Nile.  Cambyses kingIn madman quest led forth his host to whereThe long-lived races dwell: then famine struck,Ate of his dead (17) and, Nile unknown, returned.No lying rumour of thy hidden sourceHas e’er made mention; wheresoe’er thou artYet art thou sought, nor yet has nation claimedIn pride of place thy river as its own.Yet shall I tell, so far as has the god,Who veils thy fountain, given me to know.Thy progress.  Daring to upraise thy banks’Gainst fiery Cancer’s heat, thou tak’st thy riseBeneath the zenith: straight towards the northAnd mid Bootes flowing; to the couchBending, or to the risings, of the sunIn sinuous bends alternate; just alikeTo Araby’s peoples and to Libyan sands.By Seres (18) first beheld, yet know they not

Whence art thou come; and with no native streamStrik’st thou the Ethiop fields.  Nor knows the worldTo whom it owes thee.  Nature ne’er revealedThy secret origin, removed afar.Nor did she wish thee to be seen of menWhile still a tiny rivulet, but preferredTheir wonder to their knowledge.  Where the sunStays at his limit, dost thou rise in floodUntimely; such thy right: to other landsBearing thy winter: and by both the polesThou only wanderest.  Here men ask thy riseAnd there thine ending.  Meröe rich in soilAnd tilled by swarthy husbandmen dividesThy broad expanse, rejoicing in the leavesOf groves of ebony, which though spreading farTheir branching foliage, by no breadth of shadeSoften the summer sun—whose rays directPass from the Lion to the fervid earth. (20)Next dost thou journey onwards past the realmOf burning Phoebus, and the sterile sands,With equal volume; now with all thy strengthGathered in one, and now in devious streamsParting the bank that crumbles at thy touch.Then by our kingdom’s gates, where Philae partsArabian peoples from Egyptian fieldsThe sluggish bosom of thy flood recallsTry wandering currents, which through desert wastesFlow gently on to where the merchant trackDivides the Red Sea waters from our own.Who, gazing, Nile, upon thy tranquil flow,Could picture how in wild array of foam(Where shelves the earth) thy billows shall be plungedDown the steep cataracts, in fuming wrathThat rocks should bar the passage of thy streamFree from its source?  For whirled on high the sprayAims at the stars, and trembles all the airWith rush of waters; and with sounding roarThe foaming mass down from the summit poursIn hoary waves victorious.  Next an isleIn all our ancient lore “untrodden” namedStems firm thy torrent; and the rocks we callSprings of the river, for that here are markedThe earliest tokens of the coming flood.With mountain shores now nature hems thee inAnd shuts thy waves from Libya; in the midstHence do thy waters run, till Memphis firstForbids the barrier placed upon thy streamAnd gives thee access to the open fields.”

Thus did they pass, as though in peace profound,The nightly watches.  But Pothinus’ mind,Once with accursed butchery imbued,Was frenzied still; since great Pompeius fellNo deed to him was crime; his rabid soulTh’ avenging goddesses and Magnus’ shadeStirred to fresh horrors; and a Pharian handNo less was worthy, as he deemed, to shedThat blood which Fortune purposed should bedewThe conquered fathers: and the fell revengeDue to the senate for the civil warThis hireling almost snatched.  Avert, ye fates,Far hence the shame that not by Brutus’ handThis blow be struck!  Shall thus the tyrant’s fallJust at our hands, become a Pharian crime,Reft of example?  To prepare a plan(Fated to fail) he dares; nor veils in fraudA plot for murder, but with open warAttacks th’ unconquered chieftain: from his crimesHe gained such courage as to send commandTo lop the head of Caesar, and to joinIn death the kinsmen chiefs.

These words by nightHis faithful servants to Achillas bear,His foul associate, whom the boy had madeChief of his armies, and who ruled aloneO’er Egypt’s land and o’er himself her king:“Now lay thy limbs upon the sumptuous couchAnd sleep in luxury, for the Queen hath seizedThe palace; nor alone by her betrayed,But Caesar’s gift, is Pharos.  Dost delayNor hasten to the chamber of thy Queen?Thou only?  Married to the Latian chief,The impious sister now her brother wedsAnd hurrying from rival spouse to spouseHath Egypt won, and plays the bawd for Rome.By amorous potions she has won the man:Then trust the boy!  Yet give him but a nightIn her enfondling arms, and drunk with loveThy life and mine he’ll barter for a kiss.We for his sister’s charms by cross and flameShall pay the penalty: nor hope of aid;Here stands adulterous Caesar, here the KingHer spouse: how hope we from so stern a judgeTo gain acquittal?  Shall she not condemnThose who ne’er sought her favours?  By the deedWe dared together and lost, by Magnus’ bloodWhich wrought the bond between us, be thou swiftWith hasty tumult to arouse the war:Dash in with nightly band, and mar with deathTheir shameless nuptials: on the very bedWith either lover smite the ruthless Queen.Nor let the fortunes of the Western chiefMake pause our enterprise.  We share with himThe glory of his empire o’er the world.Pompeius fallen makes us too sublime.There lies the shore that bids us hope success:Ask of our power from the polluted wave,And gaze upon the scanty tomb which holdsNot all Pompeius’ ashes.  Peer to himWas he whom now thou fearest.  Noble bloodTrue, is not ours: what boots it?  Nor are realmsNor wealth of peoples given to our command.Yet have we risen to a height of powerFor deeds of blood, and Fortune to our handsAttracts her victims.  Lo! a nobler nowLies in our compass, and a second deathHesperia shall appease; for Caesar’s blood,Shed by these hands, shall give us this, that RomeShall love us, guilty of Pompeius’ fall.Why fear these titles, why this chieftain’s strength?For shorn of these, before your swords he liesA common soldier.  To the civil warThis night shall bring completion, and shall giveTo peoples slain fit offerings, and sendThat life the world demands beneath the shades.Rise then in all your hardihood and smiteThis Caesar down, and let the Roman youthsStrike for themselves, and Lagos for its King.Nor do thou tarry: full of wine and feastThou’lt fall upon him in the lists of love;Then dare the venture, and the heavenly godsShall grant of Cato’s and of Brutus’ prayersTo thee fulfilment.”

Nor was Achillas slowTo hear the voice that counselled him to crime.No sounding clarion summoned, as is wont,His troops to arms; nor trumpet blare betrayedTheir nightly march: but rapidly he seizedAll needed instruments of blood and war.Of Latian race the most part of his train,Yet to barbarian customs were their mindsBy long forgetfulness of Rome debased:Else had it shamed to serve the Pharian King;But now his vassal and his minion’s wordCompel obedience.  Those who serve in campsLose faith and love of kin: their pittance earned (21)Makes just the deed: and for their sordid pay,Not for themselves, they threaten Caesar’s life.Where finds the piteous destiny of the realmRome with herself at peace?  The host withdrawnFrom dread Thessalia raves on Nilus’ banksAs all the race of Rome.  What more had dared,With Magnus welcomed, the Lagean house?Each hand must render to the gods their due,Nor son of Rome may cease from civil war;By Heaven’s command our state was rent in twain;Nor love for husband nor regard for sireParted our peoples.  ’Twas a slave who stirredAfresh the conflict, and Achillas graspedIn turn the sword of Rome: nay more, had won,Had not the fates adverse restrained his handFrom Caesar’s slaughter.

For the murderous pairRipe for their plot were met; the spacious hallStill busied with the feast.  So might have flowedInto the kingly cups a stream of gore,And in mid banquet fallen Caesar’s head.Yet did they fear lest in the nightly strife(The fates permitting) some incautious hand—So did they trust the sword—might slay the King.Thus stayed the deed, for in the minds of slavesThe chance of doing Caesar to the deathMight bear postponement: when the day aroseThen should he suffer; and a night of lifeThus by Pothinus was to Caesar given.

Now from the Casian rock looked forth the SunFlooding the land of Egypt with a dayWarm from its earliest dawn, when from the wallsNot wandering in disorder are they seen,But drown in close array, as though to meetA foe opposing; ready to receiveOr give the battle.  Caesar, in the townPlacing no trust, within the palace courtsLay in ignoble hiding place, the gatesClose barred: nor all the kingly rooms possessed,But in the narrowest portion of the spaceHe drew his band together.  There in armsThey stood, with dread and fury in their souls.He feared attack, indignant at his fear.Thus will a noble beast in little cageImprisoned, fume, and break upon the barsHis teeth in frenzied wrath; nor more would rageThe flames of Vulcan in Sicilian depthsShould Etna’s top be closed.  He who but nowBy Haemus’ mount against Pompeius chief,Italia’s leaders and the Senate line,His cause forbidding hope, looked at the fatesHe knew were hostile, with unfaltering gaze,Now fears before the crime of hireling slaves,And in mid palace trembles at the blow:He whom nor Scythian nor Alaun (22) had daredTo violate, nor the Moor who aims the dartUpon his victim slain, to prove his skill.The Roman world but now did not sufficeTo hold him, nor the realms from furthest IndTo Tyrian Gades.  Now, as puny boy,Or woman, trembling when a town is sacked,Within the narrow corners of a houseHe seeks for safety; on the portals closedHis hope of life; and with uncertain gaitHe treads the hails; yet not without the King;In purpose, Ptolemaeus, that thy lifeFor his shall give atonement; and to hurlThy severed head among the servant throngShould darts and torches fail.  So story tellsThe Colchian princess (23) with sword in hand,And with her brother’s neck bared to the blow,Waited her sire, avenger of his realmDespoiled, and of her flight.  In the imminent riskCaesar, in hopes of peace, an envoy sentTo the fierce vassals, from their absent lordBearing a message, thus: “At whose commandWage ye the war?”  But not the laws which bindAll nations upon earth, nor sacred rights,Availed to save or messenger of peace,Or King’s ambassador; or thee from crimeSuch as befitted thee, thou land of NileFruitful in monstrous deeds: not Juba’s realmVast though it be, nor Pontus, nor the landThessalian, nor the arms of Pharnaces,Nor yet the tracts which chill Iberus girds,Nor Libyan coasts such wickedness have dared,As thou, with all thy luxuries.  Closer nowWar hemmed them in, and weapons in the courts,Shaking the innermost recesses, fell.Yet did no ram, fatal with single stroke,Assail the portal, nor machine of war;Nor flame they called in aid; but blind of planThey wander purposeless, in separate bandsAround the circuit, nor at any spotWith strength combined attempt to breach the wall.The fates forbad, and Fortune from their handsHeld fast the palace as a battlement.Nor failed they to attack from ships of warThe regal dwelling, where its frontage boldMade stand apart the waters of the deep:There, too, was Caesar’s all-protecting arm;For these at point of sword, and those with fire (24)He forces back, and though besieged he daresTo storm th’ assailants: and as lay the shipsJoined rank to rank, bids drop upon their sidesLamps drenched with reeking tar.  Nor slow the fireTo seize the hempen cables and the decksOozing with melting pitch; the oarsman’s benchAll in one moment, and the topmost yardsBurst into flame: half merged the vessels layWhile swam the foemen, all in arms, the wave;Nor fell the blaze upon the ships alone,But seized with writhing tongues the neighbouring homes,And fanned to fury by the Southern breezeTempestuous, it leaped from roof to roof;Not otherwise than on its heavenly track,Unfed by matter, glides the ball of light,By air alone aflame.

This pest recalledSome of the forces to the city’s aidFrom the besieged halls.  Nor Caesar gaveTo sleep its season; swifter than all elseTo seize the crucial moment of the war.Quick in the darkest watches of the nightHe leaped upon his ships, and Pharos (25) seized,Gate of the main; an island in the daysOf Proteus seer, now bordering the wallsOf Alexander’s city.  Thus he gainedA double vantage, for his foes were pentWithin the narrow entrance, which for himAnd for his aids gave access to the sea.

Nor longer was Pothinus’ doom delayed,Yet not with cross or flame, nor with the wrathHis crime demanded; nor by savage beastsTorn, did he suffer; but by Magnus’ death,Alas the shame! he fell; his head by swordHacked from his shoulders.  Next by frauds preparedBy Ganymede her base attendant, fledArsinoe (26) from the Court to Caesar’s foes;There in the absence of the King she ruledAs of Lagean blood: there at her hands,The savage minion of the tyrant boy,Achillas, fell by just avenging sword.Thus did another victim to thy shadeAtone, Pompeius; but the gods forbidThat this be all thy vengeance!  Not the kingNor all the stock of Lagos for thy deathWould make fit sacrifice!  So Fortune deemed;And not till patriot swords shall drink the bloodOf Caesar, Magnus, shalt thou be appeased.Still, though was slain the author of the strife,Sank not their rage: with Ganymede for chiefAgain they rush to arms; in deeds of fightAgain they conquer.  So might that one dayHave witnessed Caesar’s fate; so might its fameHave lived through ages.

As the Roman Chief,Crushed on the narrow surface of the mole,Prepared to throw his troops upon the ships,Sudden upon him the surrounding foesWith all their terrors came.  In dense arrayTheir navy lined the shores, while on the rearThe footmen ceaseless charged.  No hope was left,For flight was not, nor could the brave man’s armAchieve or safety or a glorious death.Not now were needed for great Caesar’s fall,Caught in the toils of nature, routed hostOr mighty heaps of slain: his only doubtTo fear or hope for death: while on his brainBrave Scaeva’s image flashed, now vainly sought,Who on the wall by Epidamnus’ fieldsEarned fame immortal, and with single armDrove back Pompeius as he trod the breach…

Endnotes:

(1) The body of Alexander was embalmed, and the mummy placed in a glass case. The sarcophagus which enclosed them is stated to be now in the British Museum. (2) See Book III., 268. (3) The kettledrum used in the worship of Isis. (See Book VIII, line 974.) (4) At the Battle of Actium. The island of Leucas, close to the promontory of Actium, is always named by Lucan when he refers to this battle. (See also Virgil, “Aeneid”, viii., 677.) (5) Between Cleopatra and her brother. (6) See Book IX., 507. (7) Yet the Mareot grape was greatly celebrated. (See Professor Rawlinson’s note to Herodotus. ii., 18.) (8) The calendar introduced by Caesar, in B.C. 45, was founded on the Egyptian or solar year. (See Herodotus, ii., 4.) Eudoxus seems to have dealt with this year and to have corrected it. He is probably alluded to by Virgil, “Eclogue” iii., 41. (9) Herodotus was less fortunate. For he says “Concerning the nature of the river I was not able to gain any information either from the priests or others.” (ii., 19.) (10) It was supposed that the Sun and Moon and the planets (Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, and Venus) were points which restrained the motion of the sky in its revolution. (See Book VI., 576.) (11) Mercury. (See Book IX., 777.) (12) That is, at the autumnal equinox. The priest states that the planet Mercury causes the rise of the Nile. The passage is difficult to follow; but the idea would seem to be that this god, who controlled the rise and fall of the waves of the sea, also when he was placed directly over the Nile caused the rise of that river. (13) So also Herodotus, Book ii., 22. Yet modern discoveries have proved the snows. (14) So, too, Herodotus, Book ii., 20, who attributes the theory to Greeks who wish to get a reputation for cleverness. (15) See on Book V., 709. Herodotus mentions this theory also, to dismiss it. (16) The historians state that Alexander made an expedition to the temple of Jupiter Hammon and consulted the oracle. Jupiter assisted his march, and an army of crows pointed out the path (Plutarch). It is, however stated, in a note in Langhorne’s edition, that Maximus Tyrius informs us that the object of the journey was the discovery of the sources of the Nile. (17) Sesostris, the great king, does not appear to have pushed his conquests to the west of Europe. (18) See Herodotus, iii., 17. These Ethiopian races were supposed to live to the age of 120 years, drinking milk, and eating boiled flesh. On Cambyses’s march his starving troops cast lots by tens for the one man who was to be eaten. (19) The Seres are, of course, the Chinese. The ancients seem to have thought that the Nile came from the east. But it is possible that there was another tribe of this name dwelling in Africa. (20) A passage of difficulty. I understand it to mean that at this spot the summer sun (in Leo) strikes the earth with direct rays. (21) Reading “ibi fas ubi proxima merees”, with Hosius. (22) See Book VIII., 253. (23) Medea, who fled from Colchis with her brother, Absyrtus. Pursued by her father Aeetes, she killed her brother and strewed the parts of his body into the sea. The king paused to collect them. (24) It was in this conflagration that a large part of the library of the Ptolemies was destroyed. 400,000 volumes are stated to have perished. (25) The island of Pharos, which lay over against the port of Alexandria, had been connected with the mainland in the middle by a narrow causeway. On it stood the lighthouse. (See Book IX, 1191.) Proteus, the old man of the sea, kept here his flock of seals, according to the Homeric story. (“Odyssey”, Book IV, 400.) (26) Younger sister of Cleopatra.

Preparer’s Notes:

Lucan’s “Pharsalia” (or, “Civil War”, as many scholars now prefer to call it) was written approximately a century after the events it chronicles took place.

Lucan was born into a prominent Roman family (Seneca the Elder was his grandfather, and Seneca the Younger his uncle), and seems to have befriended the young Emperor Nero at an early age. He was for several years a poet of some prominence in the Emperor’s court, and it is during this period that the “Civil War”/“Pharsalia” was probably begun. However, Nero and Lucan’s friendship evidently soured, and in A.D. 65 Lucan joined Calpurnius Piso’s conspiracy to overthrow Nero. When the conspiracy was discovered, Lucan was given the option of suicide or death; he chose suicide, and recited several lines of his poetry while he died (possibly Book III, l. 700–712).

Lucan’s “Pharsalia” was left (probably) unfinished upon his death, coincidentally breaking off at almost the exact same point where Julius Caesar broke off in his commentary “On the Civil War”. Ten books are extant; no one knows how many more Lucan planned, but two to six more books (possibly taking the story as far as Caesar’s assassination in B.C. 46) seem a reasonable estimate.

It should be noted that, as history, Lucan’s work is far from being scrupulously accurate, frequently ignoring historical fact for the benefit of drama and rhetoric. For this reason, it should not be read as a reliable account of the Roman Civil War. However, as a work of poetic literature, it has few rivals; its powerful depiction of civil war and its consequences have haunted readers for centuries, and prompted many Medieval and Renaissance poets to regard Lucan among the ranks of Homer, Virgil, and Ovid.

—Dbk

Selected Bibliography:

Original Text—

Duff, J.D.: “Lucan: The Civil War” (Loeb Classics Library, London, 1928). Latin text with English translation.

Other Translations—

Braund, Susan H.: “Lucan: Civil War” (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1992). NOTE: Highly Recommended Translation!