66
PHARSALIA
Book III
'To view thy crimes: the citizens are gone.
'Not from our treasury reward for guilt
'Thy hosts shall ravish: other towns are left,
'And other nations; wage the war on them— 150
'Drain not Rome's peace for spoil.' The victor then,
Incensed to ire: 'Vain is thy hope to fall
'In noble death, as guardian of the right;
'With all thine honours, thou of Cæsar's rage
'Art little worthy: never shall thy blood
'Defile his hand. Time lowest things with high
'Confounds not yet so much that, if thy voice
'Could save the laws, it were not better far
'They fell by Cæsar.' Such his lofty words.
But as the Tribune yielded not, his rage 160
Rose yet the more, and at his soldiers' swords
One look he cast, forgetting for the time
What robe he wore; but soon Metellus heard
These words from Cotta: "When men bow to power
'Freedom of speech is only Freedom's bane,[1]
'Whose shade at least survives, if with free will
'Thou dost whate'er is bidden thee. For us
'Some pardon may be found: a host of ills
'Compelled submission, and the shame is less
'That to have done which could not be refused. 170
'Yield, then, this wealth, the seeds of direful war.
'A nation's anger is by losses stirred,
'When laws protect it; but the hungry slave
'Brings danger to his master, not himself.'
At this Metellus yielded from the path;
And as the gates rolled backward, echoed loud
The rock Tarpeian, and the temple's depths
Gave up the treasure which for centuries
'Not from our treasury reward for guilt
'Thy hosts shall ravish: other towns are left,
'And other nations; wage the war on them— 150
'Drain not Rome's peace for spoil.' The victor then,
Incensed to ire: 'Vain is thy hope to fall
'In noble death, as guardian of the right;
'With all thine honours, thou of Cæsar's rage
'Art little worthy: never shall thy blood
'Defile his hand. Time lowest things with high
'Confounds not yet so much that, if thy voice
'Could save the laws, it were not better far
'They fell by Cæsar.' Such his lofty words.
But as the Tribune yielded not, his rage 160
Rose yet the more, and at his soldiers' swords
One look he cast, forgetting for the time
What robe he wore; but soon Metellus heard
These words from Cotta: "When men bow to power
'Freedom of speech is only Freedom's bane,[1]
'Whose shade at least survives, if with free will
'Thou dost whate'er is bidden thee. For us
'Some pardon may be found: a host of ills
'Compelled submission, and the shame is less
'That to have done which could not be refused. 170
'Yield, then, this wealth, the seeds of direful war.
'A nation's anger is by losses stirred,
'When laws protect it; but the hungry slave
'Brings danger to his master, not himself.'
At this Metellus yielded from the path;
And as the gates rolled backward, echoed loud
The rock Tarpeian, and the temple's depths
Gave up the treasure which for centuries
- ↑ That is, the liberty remaining to the people is destroyed by speaking freely to the tyrant.
