Book I
THE CROSSING OF THE RUBICON
11
'Tarpeian seest the wall of mighty Rome;
'Gods of my race who watched o'er Troy of old;
'Thou Jove of Alba's height, and Vestal fires,
'And rites of Romulus erst rapt to heaven,
'And God-like Rome; be friendly to my quest.
'Not with offence or hostile arms I come, 230
'Thy Cæsar, conqueror by land and sea,
'Thy soldier here and wheresoe'er thou wilt:
'No other's; his, his only be the guilt
'Whose acts make me thy foe.' He gives the word
And bids his standards cross the swollen stream.
So in the wastes of Afric's burning clime
The lion crouches as his foes draw near,
Feeding his wrath the while, his lashing tail
Provokes his fury; stiff upon his neck
Bristles his mane: deep from his gaping jaws 240
Resounds a muttered growl, and should a lance
Or javelin reach him from the hunter's ring,
Scorning the puny scratch he bounds afield.
From modest fountain blood-red Rubicon
In summer's heat flows on; his pigmy tide
Creeps through the valleys and with slender marge
Divides the Italian peasant from the Gaul.
Then winter gave him strength, and fraught with rain
The third day's crescent moon; while Eastern winds
Thawed from the Alpine slopes the yielding snow. 250
The cavalry first form across the stream
To break the torrent's force; the rest with ease
Beneath their shelter gain the further bank.
When Cæsar crossed and trod beneath his feet
The soil of Italy's forbidden fields,
'Here,' spake he, 'peace, here broken laws be left;
'Farewell to treaties. Fortune, lead me on;
'War is our judge, and in the fates our trust.'
'Gods of my race who watched o'er Troy of old;
'Thou Jove of Alba's height, and Vestal fires,
'And rites of Romulus erst rapt to heaven,
'And God-like Rome; be friendly to my quest.
'Not with offence or hostile arms I come, 230
'Thy Cæsar, conqueror by land and sea,
'Thy soldier here and wheresoe'er thou wilt:
'No other's; his, his only be the guilt
'Whose acts make me thy foe.' He gives the word
And bids his standards cross the swollen stream.
So in the wastes of Afric's burning clime
The lion crouches as his foes draw near,
Feeding his wrath the while, his lashing tail
Provokes his fury; stiff upon his neck
Bristles his mane: deep from his gaping jaws 240
Resounds a muttered growl, and should a lance
Or javelin reach him from the hunter's ring,
Scorning the puny scratch he bounds afield.
From modest fountain blood-red Rubicon
In summer's heat flows on; his pigmy tide
Creeps through the valleys and with slender marge
Divides the Italian peasant from the Gaul.
Then winter gave him strength, and fraught with rain
The third day's crescent moon; while Eastern winds
Thawed from the Alpine slopes the yielding snow. 250
The cavalry first form across the stream
To break the torrent's force; the rest with ease
Beneath their shelter gain the further bank.
When Cæsar crossed and trod beneath his feet
The soil of Italy's forbidden fields,
'Here,' spake he, 'peace, here broken laws be left;
'Farewell to treaties. Fortune, lead me on;
'War is our judge, and in the fates our trust.'
