And now the anger of the gods was plain to see.

The cosmos gave signs unmistakable of war.

A prescient nature overturning laws and pacts

With monster-bearing din proclaims the present evil.

To add this care to trembling mortals, that they know

In dire signs the coming carnage? Did the parent

Of all things, as fire yielded, grasp a shapeless

Realm and formless stuff to make eternal causes

Do fate's eternal edicts portion out the world

In limits fixed? Or else is nothing set, but chance -

Unsure and wandering to and fro by turns - has care

Of mortal things? In either case, whatever you

To future fate; let hope remain in fearing.

Thus, when they had grasped from these truth-telling gods

How many plagues the world would bear, gloom reigned in Rome.

All honor hid itself, dressed in plebian style.

Was everywhere. Thus is it soon after a death,

The household shocked and silent while the body lies

Still with no wakening call, nor mother, hair disheveled,

Rouses yet her servants' arms to grieving self

In death and lifeless face and eyes that swim in death,

The sorrow is not yet, but now is fear: she, frantic,

Only lies and only marvels at this evil. Matrons

Set their styles aside, and mourning crowds pervade

Upon the stony floor, deranged upon the sacred

Doorway pouring mangled hair. Their constant howls

Reach ears accustomed more to be addressed in prayer.

Nor did they all lie in the mighty Thunderer's shrine,

Lacked a parent who would voice resentment. One

Of these, cheeks scratched and tear-filled, arms bruised purple, spoke with

Bitter grievance: “Now, you wretched mothers, strike

Your breasts and tear your hair, do not put off your grief

To weep, while yet these generals' fortune hangs; whenever

Either wins, you must rejoice.” With whips like these

Did sorrow beat itself. Nor did the men in seeking

Various camps of war omit to pour out just

We were not born to fight when Hannibal in Cannae

Or in Trebia warred. We do not pray for peace,

O gods. Give wrath to foreign tribes, awaken

Brutish cities; let the earth collude in arms.

To hold the Massegetae. From the north let Elbe

Pour blond Suevi, likewise from Rhine's source, unconquered.

Make us enemy to every people! Yet

Avert this civil war. Let Dacans press here, Getae

His standards to the East. And no hand, Rome, be idle.

If you please, gods, that the western lands collapse

In fire, let the ether fall with many bolts

Upon the earth: O savage parent, all at once

Harvest rich in crimes unheard of. Is it these

Determine of the two which is to rule the city?

Hardly were so great a civil war enjoined

If neither does.” Such righteous grievance flowed. In vain.

That drew out years of heavy age, to make them serve

Another civil war.

“If any seek a different

Instance of a fear so great,” said one, “it was

When fate led exiled Marius, after Libyan and

His head - moist pools and fens of loosened soil concealing,

fortune, your deposit. Chains of iron then

Devoured the old man and prison’s lasting stench.

Thus early punished for his crimes, he was to die

Death often fled this man. In vain was power given

To one enemy, impatient of his blood,

Who froze before the fatal blow and dropped his sword

From torpid hand. He saw a light immense within

And the Marius that was yet to be: “Dare not

To touch this neck. Deaths numerous he owes to ageless

Law before his own. Put off your useless fury.

You Cimbri seek revenge for loss of your extinguished

Not heaven’s favor, but the gods’ vast anger shields

His cruelty. For when fate desires Rome’s collapse

He is sufficient. Adverse seas conveyed him then

To hostile lands, and driven among empty huts

His former triumph. There he trod upon the cinders

Of old Carthage. Fate brought Marius and Carthage

Solace both. Laid low, they equally forgave

The gods, though Libya’s rage remained. And when his fortune

From their chains, in dungeons, slaves raised savage hands.

None carried ensigns of that general unless those who,

Versed in evil, had brought crime into the camps.

Oh, fate! What a day. What day was that when Marius

With such a savage step. Both commoner and noble

Perished. Widely ranged the sword, nor ever any

Blade recalled from breast. In temples blood. So many

Stones now red and slick in slaughter. Age spared none.

Saw now their final day. Nor those at this life’s doorway,

Helpless infants, could unmake their new made fate.

Pray, what obscure offense deserved such butchery?

No, good enough that it were possible to die.

For guilt seemed tame, and many died to make up numbers.

Shame their hand was idle made harsh victors sever

Unknown heads from necks. One only hope remained:

To press white trembling lips on that polluted hand.

As a thousand swords, base people, that caress

Would be indecent should it gain an age. But for

A shameful hour? Until Sulla should return?

Who had the time to mourn a common death? Not you,

Hands that tore your limbs. Or you Antonius, evil’s

Prophet hanging by your torn white hair, whose dripping

Head a soldier laid upon the festive table.

Fimbria destroyed the Crassi. Tribune’s gore

Until then neglected by the violent hand,

They murdered you before the godess’ inmost temple

And her flame eternal. Scant the blood that flowed

From that old throat; it could not even quench the flame.

The fasces yet again. But now was come an end

To life for Marius; now all things borne that bitter

Fortune sent, and all enjoyed that sweeter brought.

Whatever fate can serve a man was measured out.

Or multitudes at Colline gate! For, as it seemed,

The whole world’s capitol and universal power

Would be moved, and Samnites hoped for Roman wounds

Beyond those dealt at Caudine Forks.

“Then vengeful Sulla,

Remained in Rome. Too many guilty limbs cut off,

His medicine surpassed the need, his hand too much

Complied where illness led. Those guilty surely perished

But it was only guilty men could have been left.

Ran amok with loosened reins of law. No single

Crime was shared in common, each contrived his own -

But all of them inspired by this victor. Slave

Drives shameful sword through master, sons are soaked in father's

To yield their brothers profit brothers fell. The tombs

Were filled by those in flight, live bodies mixed with corpses;

Even lairs of beasts held citizens aplenty.

This one bore a fractured throat and strangled gullet

And, striking solid ground, burst. From the cruel victor

Thus they snatched their deaths; one piles with wood a pyre

For himself. Then, not yet drained of blood, he leaps

Into the flames and while he can consigns himself

Through a fearful city, in the forum heaped.

Whatever crime, wherever done the thing is known.

Not even Thrace, in the Bistonian tyrant’s stables,

Saw this many hang. Not on Anteus' doors. Nor

In their Pisan hall. And when they flowed together

Putrefying and with time their mingled features

Faded, now the hand of wretched parents gleaned

That field and, recognizing, fearfully bore off.

How I yearned to place him on a pyre in flames

Forbidden. How with lamp I searched the corpses of this

Peace of Sulla's - all those trunks, to find which neck

Might match the severed head. And why need I recount

The victim, paid sad price to a perhaps unwilling

Spirit. Unblessed penance at an unforgiving

Tomb. There members torn from him and wounds as many

As his parts, but on that shredded body none was

From a dying man his death. The severed hands

Dropped. Tongue cut out still quivers - muted motion

Beating empty air. One severs ears. Another

Nostrils from the curving nose. A third twists out

He views his severed parts. Who would believe one man

Had undergone so many savage crimes and hurts.

As beneath a heap of ruins, huge in weight,

These torn limbs fuse. No more deformed come trunks to shore

Of your attack, defacing Marius as a common

Villain? If your crime is to please Sulla, must not

Murder be identified, be manifest?

Fortune sees her colonists in Praenestina

Then was the flower of Hesperia, the youth

Of Latium cut down and miserable Rome’s

Republic stained. So many young at once

Lay down in hostile death. Recurrent famine, raging

Or war - these never were their executioner.

Death dealt, the victors in these compressed crowds, all drained

Of blood, could hardly move their hands. The dead could scarcely

Fall, but swayed with lolling necks. Fierce slaughter stalked them:

Corpses smothered living bodies. Never moved,

He sits above and safe, spectator of such evil.

It did not perturb him that he sent to death

So many thousand of these miserable folk.

First they fell on water, later on each other.

Agile rafts stuck fast, and gory slaughter choked

The river’s passage to the sea. Waves reached the pile

And stopped until the force of all that blood had cleared

With faster flow, the backed up waters of swift Tiber

Swelled. Now neither bed nor bank contained the stream,

And corpses floated up, returning to the meadow.

Breaking through at last to the Tyrrhenian sea

For this did Sulla merit ‘Saviour of All’?

For this to be styled ‘Fortunate’? For this to raise

Himself a mausoleum on the Field of Mars?

Again such things will be endured; this very end

Hurt this war will visit on the human race.

For those exiled with Marius the great reward

Was Rome regained. Except the utter ruin of

A hated rival Sulla nothing won. O, fortune,

Engage on other grounds, and neither would have moved

A civil war were they content with Sulla's lot.”

Thus wept a sad old man, both mindful of the past

And fearful for the future.

Terror did not strike

Many people grieved. But in the sleepy night,

As Ursa turned revolving axles cross the sky,

He knocked upon the modest door of his relation,

Cato. There he found him turning over public cares,

And for the fate of men, but careless of himself.

And in this manner spoke: “Now, only source of virtue

Banished from all lands and put to flight - the which

No blast of fortune can remove - direct me doubtful,

Oh, let others follow Caesar’s arms or Magnus’.

Cato is the only general to Brutus.

Is it peace you will pursue, with footstep firm

In doubtful world? Or did it please you to forgive

Leaders both of crime and men? All took themselves

To wicked war for their own reasons. Some resenting

An insulted name, in peace restrained by law.

Some with a sword stave hunger off - all oaths with ease

Some seek the camps by great wealth goaded. Or does

The war itself appeal? What use then to be firm

So long against the usage of immoral times?

This only prize of virtue you will have: that war

Let not, oh gods, this hand lift sword or sinews throw

A spear in some blind cloud of shafts. Let not your virtue

Fall off so. Consequences of this war will cling

To you. Who will not wish to perish by this sword,

To make the evil yours? Let you pursue - alone,

Unarmed - a tranquil ease, just as the stars of heaven

Unperturbed glide always in their revolutions.

Lightning nearer to the earth ignites the air,

Hurled down. But by the gods’ decree Olympus stands

Above the clouds. Unrest disturbs the least of things,

The greatest still retain repose. With how much joy

Would Caesar’s ears receive the news of your arrival

Preferred to his the other camp of General Magnus.

Too much will it please him if a civil war

Please Cato. Many of the senate, other nobles,

Consuls, and a general with no office move

Caesar will be free in all the world. Let's say

For law and country and for freedom you bear arms.

You see a Brutus now no enemy to Pompey

Nor to Caesar. Foe however to the victor."

A deep and faithful bosom Cato answered: "Brutus,

Civil war I do confess the height of crime.

But fate pulls us and there must virtue follow.

My guilt belongs to heaven. Who sees fall of stars

Ether drop, the land subsiding, world in substance

Blurred? Who folds his hands when unknown tribes well note

Our Roman Wars and Latin rage, when kings beneath

A distant star are led across the sea? Shall I

That Scythians and Getae are to bring on ruin,

Rome should fall - and I secure. As after death

Of children grief itself commands the orphaned parent

Send a long procession to the mound. In those dark flames

Pyre hold the brands himself. Nor will I be pulled away

Til I embrace you, Rome, and your extinguished name;

I'll follow, liberty, your empty shade. So be it.

Let Rome give full sacrifice to bitter gods. Nor

If only heaven's gods and hell's would have permitted

My blamed head to be exposed to all these scourges!

Hostile mobs pressed hard upon the loyal Decius;

Let twin barbarous columns spit me with their spears.

Let me surrounded take on every hurt of war.

This blood may it redeem, forgiven in this death,

Whatever Roman morals may have merited.

Enslaved with ease, prepared to suffer savage rule,

Me only, who upholds these laws and useless rights.

This throat of mine will settle peace and end the strife

Upon these western lands. And after me the tyrant

Has no need for war. Should we not follow then

Well that he, if fortune favor, just as soon

Will grant himself all rights to all the world. Let me

Then conquer as a soldier lest he think he conquered

Only for himself.” He spoke, and bitter urge

As meanwhile Phoebus pushed away the frigid shadows,

Knocking sounded on the outer door. Past which

The sacred Marcia rushed, directly from the pyre

And mourning for Hortensius. A virgin wed

Prize of marriage. Fertile thus, she was bestowed

Upon another household, filling it with children -

Mother’s blood to blend two clans. But now she had

Consigned to urn those mortal ashes. Smitten in her

Repeated, strewn with cinders of the grave - unlikely

Otherwise to please this man - thus sad she spoke:

“While there was blood in me, while there was force maternal,

Cato, I obeyed you, fruitful to both husbands.

Not again to be bestowed. Give me intact

The vows of former marriage. Give at least the empty

Name of wife and grave’s inscription ‘Cato’s Marcia.’

Let no doubt be raised throughout the years to come

Not as partner in things joyful do you take me.

I come in care to part the labor. Give me camps

To follow. Why will I be left secure in peace

And farther than Cornelia from a civil war?”

The times were alien to a marriage - fate declared

For war - a union pleased. But absent empty pomp,

Performed alone, with gods the only witnesses.

No festive chaplets hang from entrance garlanded,

Nor customary torches. Stands no marriage bed

With sloping ivory steps and quilt of painted gold.

No matron, offering a turreted tiara,

Keeps foot away from threshold as it's crossed. No light

Bridal veil upon the downturned face, nor any

Gem encrusted belt surrounds a flowing gown.

No graceful collar on the neck or linen shawl

On upper shoulder, wrapping tightly her bare arms.

She embraced her husband as she would her sons.

The purple clasp concealed beneath funereal wool.

There were no customary jokes, nor was the somber

Groom exposed to banter in the Sabine way.

They joined in silence, pleased with only Brutus’ witness.

The bristled hair on that exalted face he kept

Nor any joy admitted to his rigid features.

Ever since he first saw deadly arms raised up

Brow and on his cheeks had grown a mourning beard.

Indeed, he made time, lacking zeal or hate, alone

To mourn for human kind. Nor were the former bonds

Of marriage bed revived, but he resisted too

The rules unchanging of stern Cato: moderation,

Hold to limits, follow nature, and devote

Your life to country. He thought that one is in the world

Not for oneself but for all men. Defeating hunger

Mansion. Costly garment was to robe his limbs

In shaggy, simple Roman toga. Sex he used

Alone for progeny. A father to the city,

Husband also. Nurturer of justice, serving

Self serving pleasure had no part in Cato's works.

Departing, meanwhile, Magnus’ army in all haste

Had occupied the Trojan walls of Capua,

These serving as a base from which, with best effect,

There with shady tops the Appenines arch over

Italy's mid region; in our lands no peak

Ascending taller, almost to Olympus’ height.

These mountains stretch between the waters of twin seas,

From Pisa here -whose shoals break the Tyrrhenian waves -

And reach Ancona there to stop Dalmatian waters.

From prodigious sources giant rivers form,

And, streams diverging, they shed waters on two seas.

Rapacious. Sapis joins Isauro. Then the Sena

And Aufidus, beating on the Adriatic.

Also Eridanus – earth releases not a

Greater river – rolls through broken woods into

This river, so the story goes, was planted first

With crown of poplars, for when Phaeton once transgressed

His limits leading down the day and torched the sky

With burning reins - all water wrested from the smoldering

Streams not less than Nile, except when Nile, dispersed

Upon Egyptian planes, bespreads the Libyan sands.

Nor less than Ister, but that flowing round the earth

It seizes currents as they head to other seas

Streams that seek the right slope of the mountains form

The Tiber and Rutuba. Thence descends also

The swift Vulturnus, Sarnus, bringing with it evening

Breezes. And the Liris spurred by Vestin’s waters

Siler brushing by Salernus’ fields, and Macro

Where for shallows no boats pass into the sea

Of nearby Luna. Farther on their long-stretched course,

Ascending to the air these mountains look on Gaul

And Marsians fertile lands tamed by the Sabine plow.

These piney cliffs, embracing every people native

Here, part never from Hesperia until

At Scylla’s waves they stop, extending peaks up to

Until the pressing sea resolved our boundary

And waves repelled the earth. So now that twin seas pinch

The land, Sicilian Pelorus ends these mountains.

Caesar, furious in arms, took pleasure in

His foe from empty corners of Hesperia,

Burst into empty fields, keep the initiative,

Wage war with constant war. It pleased him less to cross

An open gate than smash it down, receive a field

And fire. To travel on a conquered road he reckoned

Shameful. Or to seem a citizen. Perplexed

And various in party, doubtful Latin towns,

Although prepared to yield at war’s first hint of harm,

Circling stones. And where above they might assault

An enemy with spears, they fitted out their towers.

People more inclined to Magnus, but their loyalties

Struggled against lowering fear. When south winds claim

Obeys. Then even if a loosened earth, pushed back

With pulse of the Aeolian trident, send east gales

Upon the swollen waves, the seas although new struck

Respect their former wind. And though the cloudy skies

But easily did fear change minds, and doubtful faith was

Fortune’s prize. Then fearful Libon's flight left naked

All Etruria. In Umbria was Thermus

Thrashed and independence lost. No civil war

Hearing Caesar's name. When Auximon was threatened,

Varus, through the city’s unassailed rear walls,

Wherever there were stones or forests, ran away.

From Asculean tower Lentulus was routed;

From that large force the general fled; his standards

Led no cohorts. Scipio, you too desert

Nuceria's tower, yours to guard but undefended −

All despite the stalwart youth that filled your camps,

These Magnus first had sent to salvage Gallic losses.

He himself deployed them, then gave use of Roman

Blood to spouse's father. But, Domitius, warlike

You held sturdy-walled Corfinium; those fresh

Your trumpets. On the plain far off it seemed a giant

Cloud had coalesced of fervent armies vibrant

In the sun, abristle all with spears. “My friends,”

He said, “run over to the stream and sink that bridge.

All your waters to disrupt those planks and wash

Away their aldor vessels, foamy-prowed. This limit

Let there be to war, upon these banks let ease

Erode our enemies. And it will be for us

The band turn quickly from the walls, but all in vain.

For Caesar saw afar that were the river freed

His route would be disrupted. Growing hot with anger:

“Is it not enough you sought to hide your fear

And contrive to block the rivers. Not if Ganges’ swelling

Cyclone raged, will Caesar stop at any river

After Rubicon. Advance the cavalry

And likewise foot; go take the bridge that they would raze.”

Took to the plain: most like a pelting rain swift spears

From seasoned arms were hurled across the river.

Guards repelled, onto the now deserted water

Caesar comes, his foes compelled to their safe walls

He crept with proper shielding to the walls themselves.

But see the treachery of war! Through unlocked gates

His army dragged their general captive. At the feet

Of that disdainful citizen he stands. With features

Demanded death. Well Caesar knew that penalty

Was wished and pardon feared. “Then live,” he said.

“Despite your wish and through our bounty look upon

The day. Let this example be a hope to those

You conquer, nothing from this mercy I expect.”

He spoke and ordered to be loosed those shackled hands.

O how much better even murder; fortune might

Have spared a Roman shame. The worst of punishments

The senate to: to be pardoned. Undismayed, repressing

His deep anger, he speaks to himself: “Would you,

Degenerate, seek Rome, a peaceful nook? Not go

Into the midst of furious war prepared to die?

Escape this gift of Caesar’s.”

Meanwhile, unaware

Still of his captured general, Magnus readied arms

To fortify his side with added strength. Next day

The trumpet was about to sound, but thinking he might

Addressed the silent cohorts with his honored voice:

"Avengers of these crimes, followers of better

Flag, true Roman hands, armed by the senate for no

Selfish fight, demand the battle you have vowed.

A gallic plague pours down from frozen alps. Our blood

Already touches Caesar’s tainted swords. Better,

Gods, that it was we first bore the pain of war,

And they the stigma. Now? But now Rome asks submission,

Battles, but the wrath and vengeance of our country.

This is no more war than Cataline preparing

Torches for our roofs and Lentulus in fury

And Cethegus’ troop, bare armed and mad. O plagued

You, Caesar, with the great Metelli, but to Cinnae

And to Marii you’ve come. As surely as

Catullus finished Lepidus, as Carbo, now

Entombed in Sicily, perceived my axe, and

You will lie low. And yet for my part I am loath

To partner you with these; I grieve that Rome has forced

My hand against you in your madness. If that Crassus

Had returned from Parthian wars victorious,

Will swell my fame, this hand shall strike with twisting spear,

And fervent blood rekindled in this breast. Learn now

That those who know to live in peace, in war are not

Benign. Well that he calls me finished and eclipsed;

The senior of these camps, the soldiers old in his.

To what rank a people ever freely raised

Their citizens, there I have risen and omitted

Only kingship. Any Roman seeking more

Here both consuls, here a force of generals stand.

Will Caesar triumph over senate? Not so blind

As that, your course, O fortune, not so full of shame.

Do Gaul, rebellious still so many years, and lifelong

Waters of the Rhine and called mere tidal land

An ocean? Turned a frighted back upon the Britons

He had sought? Or that his fame for fury swelled

Vain threats that from ancestral seats he banished all

As one man they follow me. To me with standards

Shining, after Cynthia had finished twice

Her monthly path, the fear-filled pirates all gave up

The ocean’s straits and begged a narrow plot of land.

Of Scythian waters, fleeing; him who had delayed

The Roman drive I drove to death when Sulla could not.

No part of the world is free of me; my trophies

Hang in every place wherever on the earth,

The victor over Phasis’ freezing waves. I know

The middle zone in torrid Egypt and the shadows

Of Syene that do not bend. The West obeys

My laws that holds Hesperian Baetis, last of rivers

The Heniochi, fierce in war, the Colchi known

For stolen fleece. The Cappadoces fear my standard,

And Judea, worshipping an obscure god.

The flaccid Sophenes I’ve tamed, Armenians,

A civil war against my kin?” No clamor followed

From the general’s words, nor did his partisans

Beg trumpets to the promised fight. And Magnus sensed

The fear in them; it seemed best to withdraw his standards,

By the image of a Caesar yet unseen.

As bull defeated once amidst the herd will seek

A wooded glen and try his horns on trees. Exiled

To vacant fields he will not come again until

As victor then, he draws a crowd of bulls wherever

He may choose despite the shepherd; so, in men

Unequal, Magnus ceded all the western lands;

In flight through rural Apula, he clambered up

They who crossed the sea in Crecopian boats,

Whose lying sails cried Theseus conquered. Here the flank

Of Italy had formed into a narrow arc,

Producing in the seas a slender tongue that hemmed

Indeed this be a port, its jaws allowing in

The northern sea, but that with stones an island stopped

Those violent northerlies, turned back the streaming waves.

On either face with craggy hill tops rock-filled mountains

So that the straining ships stood fast with trembling ropes.

On all sides thence the ocean opens, whether bearing

Sails, Corcyra, to your port or making for

Ionian waters near Illyrian Epidamnos.

The Adriatic moves, and clouds envelop all

The Cerauni and while Calabrian Sason drowns

In foamy seas. Thus lacking faith in things he left

Behind – nor means to move this war to rugged Spain

He then addressed – his offspring noble all – the elder son:

“To try the very corners of the world I send you.

Roil Euphrates and the Nile as far as our

Renown has reached, through cities where because of my

Places bring Cilicians to the sea again.

Excite the Pharian kings, my client Tigranes.

I bid you not ignore Pharnacian arms, nor yet

The wandering folk of both Armenias. Let you raise

And those on dull Maeotic swamps which, frozen, can

Endure the Scythians’ carts. But why go on? In all,

Throughout the East, my son, you will instill my war.

Through all the globe you will disturb my conquered cities.

Who mark the Latin Fasti, let the first north wind

Propel you to Epirus. Through the fields of Greece,

Then, and of Macedons search out new forces, now that

Winter gives peace time.” He spoke and all obeyed

But never bearing peace or long surcease from arms

Lest fate change something, close upon his kinsmen’s footsteps,

Caesar. All those walls in one charge breached, so many

Towers downed, such scattering of foes, to any

The world, war’s greatest treasure, Rome itself so easy

In the capture. Caesar, headstrong in all things

And thinking nothing done while aught remains to do,

Pursues ferocious. Though he owned all Italy

Its farthest shore, shared even that. Nor did he wish

To give his foes free access to the straits, so blocked

The waves with fill and sea with rocks – this undertaking

Huge but vain. The thirsty waves drank up his stones

Fell into the midst of the Aegean sea

No rocks would loom above the waves; nor Gaurus if its

Shattered peak fell to the depths of lake Avernus.

So, when his mounds could keep no shape within the stream

And hung huge chains to bind the wood. Fame sings just such

Of swelling Xerxes how above the water he built

Roads and ventured many bridges, brought to Asia

Europe, Sestos to Abydo, and then strode

He fearing neither west nor southeast winds, with sails

And vessels drove through Athos. Thus were straits constrained

Of flow by fall of timber. And the works rose up

With many mounds, tall towers trembling over water.

Narrowed with the rising earth, his spirit vexed

With biting cares, at pains to break out to the sea,

Now scatters war across the waters. Often, filled

With southern winds and driven on, their halyards straining,

The very top of them into the brine, allowing

Space for keels. And through the night mixed fireballs

Were hurled from engines worked by mighty arms. At last

The time for secret flight had come; lest noise from ships

The hours, nor no trumpet take his men to sea.

The last of Virgo now began to lead the arms

Of Libra that would raise the sun, when silently

The ships were loosed. No chants accompany the anchor

Bent to the mast, and as that rugged pine was raised

The officers were pale and silent. Dangling sailors

Let the furled sails down, their sturdy lines unshaken

Lest there be a breeze. This general prays to you

That you at any rate allow him now to lose it.

Almost did the fates forbid that, for the sea

Resounded with vast murmurs from the prows’ impulse,

And waves gyrate with furrows of so many ships

Had admitted - changing sides with fortunes - met

At gates and walls and with a rapid course wound through the

Port to harbor, vexed this navy reached the waves.

O shame, that Magnus flight should seem small victory.

More narrow than Euboea where the waves strike Chalcis.

Here two ships stuck fast and, taken by a band

That waited for the fleet, this battle came to shore

And first the ocean was made red with civil blood.

As when Pagasean hull essayed the waves of Phasis,

Earth throwing Cyanean boulders to the sea,

Less destroyed was Argo’s deck, free of the mountains,

While those boulders vainly struck an empty sea,

A color change upon the dawning sky, advising

Of prompt Phoebus, pale light not yet reddening

As he withdraws the flames from closer stars. And now

The Pleiads dim, Bootes cart turns back and fades

The large stars hide, and Lucifer himself flees day.

You’ll have the sea now, Magnus, but without the fortune

You had chasing pirates over all the ocean.