64
PHARSALIA
Book III
What long array of triumph had he brought!
What pictured scenes of battle! how had Rhine
And Ocean borne his chains! How noble Gaul,
And Britain's fair-haired chiefs his lofty car
Had followed! Such a triumph had he lost 90
By further conquest. Now in silent fear
They watched his marching troops, nor joyful towns
Poured out their crowds to welcome his return.
Yet did the conqueror's proud soul rejoice,
Far more than at their love, at such a fear.
Now Anxur's hold was passed, the oozy road
That separates the marsh, the grove sublime[1]
Where reigns the Scythian goddess, and the path
By which men bear the fasces to the feast
On Alba's summit. From the height afar— 100
Gazing in awe upon the walls of Rome
His native city, since the Northern war
Unseen, unvisited—thus Cæsar spake:
'Who would not fight for such a god-like town?
'And have they left thee, Rome, without a blow?
'Thank the high gods no eastern hosts are here
'To wreak their fury; nor Sarmatian horde
'With northern tribes conjoined; by Fortune's gift
'This war is civil: else this coward chief
'Had been thy ruin.'
Trembling at his feet 110
He found the city: deadly fire and flame,
As from a conqueror, gods and fanes dispersed;
Such was the measure of their fear, as though
His power and wish were one. No festal shout
Greeted his march, no feigned acclaim of joy.
What pictured scenes of battle! how had Rhine
And Ocean borne his chains! How noble Gaul,
And Britain's fair-haired chiefs his lofty car
Had followed! Such a triumph had he lost 90
By further conquest. Now in silent fear
They watched his marching troops, nor joyful towns
Poured out their crowds to welcome his return.
Yet did the conqueror's proud soul rejoice,
Far more than at their love, at such a fear.
Now Anxur's hold was passed, the oozy road
That separates the marsh, the grove sublime[1]
Where reigns the Scythian goddess, and the path
By which men bear the fasces to the feast
On Alba's summit. From the height afar— 100
Gazing in awe upon the walls of Rome
His native city, since the Northern war
Unseen, unvisited—thus Cæsar spake:
'Who would not fight for such a god-like town?
'And have they left thee, Rome, without a blow?
'Thank the high gods no eastern hosts are here
'To wreak their fury; nor Sarmatian horde
'With northern tribes conjoined; by Fortune's gift
'This war is civil: else this coward chief
'Had been thy ruin.'
Trembling at his feet 110
He found the city: deadly fire and flame,
As from a conqueror, gods and fanes dispersed;
Such was the measure of their fear, as though
His power and wish were one. No festal shout
Greeted his march, no feigned acclaim of joy.
- ↑ Near Aricia. (See Book VI., 92.)
celebrated four triumphs: for his victories over the Gauls, Ptolemæus, Pharnaces, and Juba.
