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Medieval and Classical Library

Pharsalia
(aka "The Civil War")

BOOK VI
The Flight Near Dyrrhachium.
Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch of Thessalia.

Online Medieval and Classical Library Release #16b


     Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fight
     Had drawn their armies near upon the hills
     And all the gods beheld their chosen pair,
     Caesar, the Grecian towns despising, scorned
     To reap the glory of successful war
     Save at his kinsman's cost.  In all his prayers
     He seeks that moment, fatal to the world,
     When shall be cast the die, to win or lose,
     And all his fortune hang upon the throw.
10   Thrice he drew out his troops, his eagles thrice,
     Demanding battle; thus to increase the woe
     Of Latium, prompt as ever: but his foes,
     Proof against every art, refused to leave
     The rampart of their camp.  Then marching swift
     By hidden path between the wooded fields
     He seeks, and hopes to seize, Dyrrhachium's (1) fort;
     But Magnus, speeding by the ocean marge,
     First camped on Petra's slopes, a rocky hill
     Thus by the natives named.  From thence he keeps
20   Watch o'er the fortress of Corinthian birth
     Which by its towers alone without a guard
     Was safe against a siege.  No hand of man
     In ancient days built up her lofty wall,
     No hammer rang upon her massive stones:
     Not all the works of war, nor Time himself
     Shall undermine her.  Nature's hand has raised
     Her adamantine rocks and hedged her in
     With bulwarks girded by the foamy main:
     And but for one short bridge of narrow earth
30   Dyrrhachium were an island.  Steep and fierce,
     Dreaded of sailors, are the cliffs that bear
     Her walls; and tempests, howling from the west,
     Toss up the raging main upon the roofs;
     And homes and temples tremble at the shock.

     Thirsting for battle and with hopes inflamed
     Here Caesar hastes, with distant rampart lines
     Seeking unseen to coop his foe within,
     Though spread in spacious camp upon the hills.
     With eagle eye he measures out the land
40   Meet to be compassed, nor content with turf
     Fit for a hasty mound, he bids his troops
     Tear from the quarries many a giant rock:
     And spoils the dwellings of the Greeks, and drags
     Their walls asunder for his own.  Thus rose
     A mighty barrier which no ram could burst
     Nor any ponderous machine of war.
     Mountains are cleft, and level through the hills
     The work of Caesar strides: wide yawns the moat,
     Forts show their towers rising on the heights,
50   And in vast circle forests are enclosed
     And groves and spacious lands, and beasts of prey,
     As in a line of toils.  Pompeius lacked
     Nor field nor forage in th' encircled span
     Nor room to move his camp; nay, rivers rose
     Within, and ran their course and reached the sea;
     And Caesar wearied ere he saw the whole,
     And daylight failed him.  Let the ancient tale
     Attribute to the labours of the gods
     The walls of Ilium: let the fragile bricks
60   Which compass in great Babylon, amaze
     The fleeting Parthian.  Here a larger space
     Than those great cities which Orontes swift
     And Tigris' stream enclose, or that which boasts
     In Eastern climes, the lordly palaces
     Fit for Assyria's kings, is closed by walls
     Amid the haste and tumult of a war
     Forced to completion.  Yet this labour huge
     Was spent in vain.  So many hands had joined
     Or Sestos with Abydos, or had tamed
70   With mighty mole the Hellespontine wave,
     Or Corinth from the realm of Pelops' king
     Had rent asunder, or had spared each ship
     Her voyage round the long Malean cape,
     Or had done anything most hard, to change
     The world's created surface.  Here the war
     Was prisoned: blood predestinate to flow
     In all the parts of earth; the host foredoomed
     To fall in Libya or in Thessaly
     Was here: in such small amphitheatre
80   The tide of civil passion rose and fell.

     At first Pompeius knew not: so the hind
     Who peaceful tills the mid-Sicilian fields
     Hears not Pelorous (2) sounding to the storm;
     So billows thunder on Rutupian shores (3),
     Unheard by distant Caledonia's tribes.
     But when he saw the mighty barrier stretch
     O'er hill and valley, and enclose the land,
     He bade his columns leave their rocky hold
     And seize on posts of vantage in the plain;
90   Thus forcing Caesar to extend his troops
     On wider lines; and holding for his own
     Such space encompassed as divides from Rome
     Aricia, (4) sacred to that goddess chaste
     Of old Mycenae; or as Tiber holds
     From Rome's high ramparts to the Tuscan sea,
     Unless he deviate.  No bugle call
     Commands an onset, and the darts that fly
     Fly though forbidden; but the arm that flings
     For proof the lance, at random, here and there
100  Deals impious slaughter.  Weighty care compelled
     Each leader to withhold his troops from fight;
     For there the weary earth of produce failed
     Pressed by Pompeius' steeds, whose horny hoofs
     Rang in their gallop on the grassy fields
     And killed the succulence.  They strengthless lay
     Upon the mown expanse, nor pile of straw,
     Brought from full barns in place of living grass,
     Relieved their craving; shook their panting flanks,
     And as they wheeled Death struck his victim down.
110  Then foul contagion filled the murky air
     Whose poisonous weight pressed on them in a cloud
     Pestiferous; as in Nesis' isle (5) the breath
     Of Styx rolls upwards from the mist-clad rocks;
     Or that fell vapour which the caves exhale
     From Typhon (6) raging in the depths below.
     Then died the soldiers, for the streams they drank
     Held yet more poison than the air: the skin
     Was dark and rigid, and the fiery plague
     Made hard their vitals, and with pitiless tooth
120  Gnawed at their wasted features, while their eyes
     Started from out their sockets, and the head
     Drooped for sheer weariness.  So the disease
     Grew swifter in its strides till scarce was room,
     'Twixt life and death, for sickness, and the pest
     Slew as it struck its victim, and the dead
     Thrust from the tents (such all their burial) lay
     Blent with the living.  Yet their camp was pitched
     Hard by the breezy sea by which might come
     All nations' harvests, and the northern wind
130  Not seldom rolled the murky air away.
     Their foe, not vexed with pestilential air
     Nor stagnant waters, ample range enjoyed
     Upon the spacious uplands: yet as though
     In leaguer, famine seized them for its prey.
     Scarce were the crops half grown when Caesar saw
     How prone they seized upon the food of beasts,
     And stripped of leaves the bushes and the groves,
     And dragged from roots unknown the doubtful herb.
     Thus ate they, starving, all that teeth may bite
140  Or fire might soften, or might pass their throats
     Dry, parched, abraded; food unknown before
     Nor placed on tables: while the leaguered foe
     Was blessed with plenty.

                              When Pompeius first
     Was pleased to break his bonds and be at large,
     No sudden dash he makes on sleeping foe
     Unarmed in shade of night; his mighty soul
     Scorns such a path to victory.  'Twas his aim,
     To lay the turrets low; to mark his track,
     By ruin spread afar; and with the sword
150  To hew a path between his slaughtered foes.
     Minucius' (7) turret was the chosen spot
     Where groves of trees and thickets gave approach
     Safe, unbetrayed by dust.

                                   Up from the fields
     Flashed all at once his eagles into sight
     And all his trumpets blared.  But ere the sword
     Could win the battle, on the hostile ranks
     Dread panic fell; prone as in death they lay
     Where else upright they should withstand the foe;
     Nor more availed their valour, and in vain
160  The cloud of weapons flew, with none to slay.
     Then blazing torches rolling pitchy flame
     Are hurled, and shaken nod the lofty towers
     And threaten ruin, and the bastions groan
     Struck by the frequent engine, and the troops
     Of Magnus by triumphant eagles led
     Stride o'er the rampart, in their front the world.

     Yet now that passage which not Caesar's self
     Nor thousand valiant squadrons had availed
     To rescue from their grasp, one man in arms
170  Steadfast till death refused them; Scaeva named
     This hero soldier: long he served in fight
     Waged 'gainst the savage on the banks of Rhone;
     And now centurion made, through deeds of blood,
     He bore the staff before the marshalled line.
     Prone to all wickedness, he little recked
     How valourous deeds in civil war may be
     Greatest of crimes; and when he saw how turned
     His comrades from the war and sought in flight
     A refuge, (8) "Whence," he cried, "this impious fear
180  Unknown to Caesar's armies?  Do ye turn
     Your backs on death, and are ye not ashamed
     Not to be found where slaughtered heroes lie?
     Is loyalty too weak?  Yet love of fight
     Might bid you stand.  We are the chosen few
     Through whom the foe would break.  Unbought by blood
     This day shall not be theirs.  'Neath Caesar's eye,
     True, death would be more happy; but this boon
     Fortune denies: at least my fall shall be
     Praised by Pompeius.  Break ye with your breasts
190  Their weapons; blunt the edges of their swords
     With throats unyielding.  In the distant lines
     The dust is seen already, and the sound
     Of tumult and of ruin finds the ear
     Of Caesar: strike; the victory is ours:
     For he shall come who while his soldiers die
     Shall make the fortress his."  His voice called forth
     The courage that the trumpets failed to rouse
     When first they rang: his comrades mustering come
     To watch his deeds; and, wondering at the man,
200  To test if valour thus by foes oppressed,
     In narrow space, could hope for aught but death.
     But Scaeva standing on the tottering bank
     Heaves from the brimming turret on the foe
     The corpses of the fallen; the ruined mass
     Furnishing weapons to his hands; with beams,
     And ponderous stones, nay, with his body threats
     His enemies; with poles and stakes he thrusts
     The breasts advancing; when they grasp the wall
     He lops the arm: rocks crush the foeman's skull
210  And rive the scalp asunder: fiery bolts
     Dashed at another set his hair aflame,
     Till rolls the greedy blaze about his eyes
     With hideous crackle.  As the pile of slain
     Rose to the summit of the wall he sprang,
     Swift as across the nets a hunted pard,
     Above the swords upraised, till in mid throng
     Of foes he stood, hemmed in by densest ranks
     And ramparted by war; in front and rear,
     Where'er he struck, the victor.  Now his sword
220  Blunted with gore congealed no more could wound,
     But brake the stricken limb; while every hand
     Flung every quivering dart at him alone;
     Nor missed their aim, for rang against his shield
     Dart after dart unerring, and his helm
     In broken fragments pressed upon his brow;
     His vital parts were safeguarded by spears
     That bristled in his body.  Fortune saw
     Thus waged a novel combat, for there warred
     Against one man an army.  Why with darts,
230  Madmen, assail him and with slender shafts,
     'Gainst which his life is proof?  Or ponderous stones
     This warrior chief shall overwhelm, or bolts
     Flung by the twisted thongs of mighty slings.
     Let steelshod ram or catapult remove
     This champion of the gate.  No fragile wall
     Stands here for Caesar, blocking with its bulk
     Pompeius' way to freedom.  Now he trusts
     His shield no more, lest his sinister hand,
     Idle, give life by shame; and on his breast
240  Bearing a forest of spears, though spent with toil
     And worn with onset, falls upon his foe
     And braves alone the wounds of all the war.
     Thus may an elephant in Afric wastes,
     Oppressed by frequent darts, break those that fall
     Rebounding from his horny hide, and shake
     Those that find lodgment, while his life within
     Lies safe, protected, nor doth spear avail
     To reach the fount of blood.  Unnumbered wounds
     By arrow dealt, or lance, thus fail to slay
250  This single warrior.  But lo!  from far
     A Cretan archer's shaft, more sure of aim
     Than vows could hope for, strikes on Scaeva's brow
     To light within his eye: the hero tugs
     Intrepid, bursts the nerves, and tears the shaft
     Forth with the eyeball, and with dauntless heel
     Treads them to dust.  Not otherwise a bear
     Pannonian, fiercer for the wound received,
     Maddened by dart from Libyan thong propelled,
     Turns circling on her wound, and still pursues
260  The weapon fleeing as she whirls around.
     Thus, in his rage destroyed, his shapeless face
     Stood foul with crimson flow.  The victors' shout
     Glad to the sky arose; no greater joy
     A little blood could give them had they seen
     That Caesar's self was wounded.  Down he pressed
     Deep in his soul the anguish, and, with mien,
     No longer bent on fight, submissive cried,
     "Spare me, ye citizens; remove the war
     Far hence: no weapons now can haste my death;
270  Draw from my breast the darts, but add no more.
     Yet raise me up to place me in the camp
     Of Magnus, living: this your gift to him;
     No brave man's death my title to renown,
     But Caesar's flag deserted."  So he spake.
     Unhappy Aulus thought his words were true,
     Nor saw within his hand the pointed sword;
     And leaping forth in haste to make his own
     The prisoner and his arms, in middle throat
     Received the lightning blade.  By this one death
280  Rose Scaeva's valour again; and thus he cried,
     Such be the punishment of all who thought
     Great Scaeva vanquished; if Pompeius seeks
     Peace from this reeking sword, low let him lay
     At Caesar's feet his standards.  Me do ye think
     Such as yourselves, and slow to meet the fates?
     Your love for Magnus and the Senate's cause
     Is less than mine for death."  These were his words;
     And dust in columns proved that Caesar came.
     Thus was Pompeius' glory spared the stain
290  Of flight compelled by Scaeva.  He, when ceased
     The battle, fell, no more by rage of fight,
     Or sight of blood out-pouring from his wounds,
     Roused to the combat.  Fainting there he lay
     Upon the shoulders of his comrades borne,
     Who him adoring (as though deity
     Dwelt in his bosom) for his matchless deeds,
     Plucked forth the gory shafts and took his arms
     To deck the gods and shield the breast of Mars.
     Thrice happy thou with such a name achieved,
300  Had but the fierce Iberian from thy sword,
     Or heavy shielded Teuton, or had fled
     The light Cantabrian: with no spoils shalt thou
     Adorn the Thunderer's temple, nor upraise
     The shout of triumph in the ways of Rome.
     For all thy prowess, all thy deeds of pride
     Do but prepare her lord.

                              Nor on this hand
     Repulsed, Pompeius idly ceased from war,
     Content within his bars; but as the sea
     Tireless, which tempests force upon the crag
310  That breaks it, or which gnaws a mountain side
     Some day to fall in ruin on itself;
     He sought the turrets nearest to the main,
     On double onset bent; nor closely kept
     His troops in hand, but on the spacious plain
     Spread forth his camp.  They joyful leave the tents
     And wander at their will.  Thus Padus flows
     In brimming flood, and foaming at his bounds,
     Making whole districts quake; and should the bank
     Fail 'neath his swollen waters, all his stream
320  Breaks forth in swirling eddies over fields
     Not his before; some lands are lost, the rest
     Gain from his bounty.

                              Hardly from his tower
     Had Caesar seen the fire or known the fight:
     And coming found the rampart overthrown,
     The dust no longer stirred, the rains cold
     As from a battle done.  The peace that reigned
     There and on Magnus' side, as though men slept,
     Their victory won, aroused his angry soul.
     Quick he prepares, so that he end their joy
330  Careless of slaughter or defeat, to rush
     With threatening columns on Torquatus' post.
     But swift as sailor, by his trembling mast
     Warned of Circeian tempest, furls his sails,
     So swift Torquatus saw, and prompt to wage
     The war more closely, he withdrew his men
     Within a narrower wall.

                              Now past the trench
     Were Caesar's companies, when from the hills
     Pompeius hurled his host upon their ranks
     Shut in, and hampered.  Not so much o'erwhelmed
340  As Caesar's soldiers is the hind who dwells
     On Etna's slopes, when blows the southern wind,
     And all the mountain pours its cauldrons forth
     Upon the vale; and huge Enceladus (9)
     Writhing beneath his load spouts o'er the plains
     A blazing torrent.

                         Blinded by the dust,
     Encircled, vanquished, ere the fight, they fled
     In cloud of terror on their rearward foe,
     So rushing on their fates.  Thus had the war
     Shed its last drop of blood and peace ensued,
350  But Magnus suffered not, and held his troops.
     Back from the battle.

                              Thou, oh Rome, had'st been
     Free, happy, mistress of thy laws and rights
     Were Sulla here.  Now shalt thou ever grieve
     That in his crowning crime, to have met in fight
     A pious kinsman, Caesar's vantage lay.
     Oh tragic destiny!  Nor Munda's fight
     Hispania had wept, nor Libya mourned
     Encrimsoned Utica, nor Nilus' stream,
     With blood unspeakable polluted, borne
360  A nobler corse than her Egyptian kings:
     Nor Juba (10) lain unburied on the sands,
     Nor Scipio with his blood outpoured appeased
     The ghosts of Carthage; nor the blameless life
     Of Cato ended: and Pharsalia's name
     Had then been blotted from the book of fate.

     But Caesar left the region where his arms
     Had found the deities averse, and marched
     His shattered columns to Thessalian lands.
     Then to Pompeius came (whose mind was bent
370  To follow Caesar wheresoe'er he fled)
     His captains, striving to persuade their chief
     To seek Ausonia, his native land,
     Now freed from foes.  "Ne'er will I pass," he said,
     "My country's limit, nor revisit Rome
     Like Caesar, at the head of banded hosts.
     Hesperia when the war began was mine;
     Mine, had I chosen in our country's shrines, (11)
     In midmost forum of her capital,
     To join the battle.  So that banished far
380  Be war from Rome, I'll cross the torrid zone
     Or those for ever frozen Scythian shores.
     What!  shall my victory rob thee of the peace
     I gave thee by my flight?  Rather than thou
     Should'st feel the evils of this impious war,
     Let Caesar deem thee his."  Thus said, his course
     He turned towards the rising of the sun,
     And following devious paths, through forests wide,
     Made for Emathia, the land by fate
     Foredoomed to see the issue.

390  Thessalia on that side where Titan first
     Raises the wintry day, by Ossa's rocks
     Is prisoned in: but in th' advancing year
     When higher in the vault his chariot rides
     'Tis Pelion that meets the morning rays.
     And when beside the Lion's flames he drives
     The middle course, Othrys with woody top
     Screens his chief ardour.  On the hither side
     Pindus receives the breezes of the west
     And as the evening falls brings darkness in.
400  There too Olympus, at whose foot who dwells
     Nor fears the north nor sees the shining bear.
     Between these mountains hemmed, in ancient time
     The fields were marsh, for Tempe's pass not yet
     Was cleft, to give an exit to the streams
     That filled the plain: but when Alcides' hand
     Smote Ossa from Olympus at a blow, (12)
     And Nereus wondered at the sudden flood
     Of waters to the main, then on the shore
     (Would it had slept for ever 'neath the deep)
410  Seaborn Achilles' home Pharsalus rose;
     And Phylace (13) whence sailed that ship of old
     Whose keel first touched upon the beach of Troy;
     And Dorion mournful for the Muses' ire
     On Thamyris (14) vanquished: Trachis; Melibe
     Strong in the shafts (15) of Hercules, the price
     Of that most awful torch; Larissa's hold
     Potent of yore; and Argos, (16) famous erst,
     O'er which men pass the ploughshare: and the spot
     Fabled as Echionian Thebes, (17) where once
420  Agave bore in exile to the pyre
     (Grieving 'twas all she had) the head and neck
     Of Pentheus massacred.  The lake set free
     Flowed forth in many rivers: to the west
     Aeas, (18) a gentle stream; nor stronger flows
     The sire of Isis ravished from his arms;
     And Achelous, rival for the hand
     Of Oeneus' daughter, rolls his earthy flood (19)
     To silt the shore beside the neighbouring isles.
     Evenus (20) purpled by the Centaur's blood
430  Wanders through Calydon: in the Malian Gulf
     Thy rapids fall, Spercheius: pure the wave
     With which Amphrysos (21) irrigates the meads
     Where once Apollo served: Anaurus (22) flows
     Breathing no vapour forth; no humid air
     Ripples his face: and whatever stream,
     Nameless itself, to Ocean gives its waves
     Through thee, Peneus: (23) whirled in eddies foams
     Apidanus; Enipeus lingers on
     Swift only when fresh streams his volume swell:
440  And thus Asopus takes his ordered course,
     Phoenix and Melas; but Eurotas keeps
     His stream aloof from that with which he flows,
     Peneus, gliding on his top as though
     Upon the channel.  Fable says that, sprung
     From darkest pools of Styx, with common floods
     He scorns to mingle, mindful of his source,
     So that the gods above may fear him still.

     Soon as were sped the rivers, Boebian ploughs
     Dark with its riches broke the virgin soil;
450  Then came Lelegians to press the share,
     And Dolopes and sons of Oeolus
     By whom the glebe was furrowed.  Steed-renowned
     Magnetians dwelt there, and the Minyan race
     Who smote the sounding billows with the oar.
     There in the cavern from the pregnant cloud
     Ixion's sons found birth, the Centaur brood
     Half beast, half human: Monychus who broke
     The stubborn rocks of Pholoe, Rhoetus fierce
     Hurling from Oeta's top gigantic elms
460  Which northern storms could hardly overturn;
     Pholus, Alcides' host: Nessus who bore
     The Queen across Evenus' (24) waves, to feel
     The deadly arrow for his shameful deed;
     And aged Chiron (25) who with wintry star
     Against the huger Scorpion draws his bow.
     Here sparkled on the land the warrior seed; (26)
     Here leaped the charger from Thessalian rocks (27)
     Struck by the trident of the Ocean King,
     Omen of dreadful war; here first he learned,
470  Champing the bit and foaming at the curb,
     Yet to obey his lord.  From yonder shore
     The keel of pine first floated, (28) and bore men
     To dare the perilous chance of seas unknown:
     And here Ionus ruler of the land
     First from the furnace molten masses drew
     Of iron and brass; here first the hammer fell
     To weld them, shapeless; here in glowing stream
     Ran silver forth and gold, soon to receive
     The minting stamp.  'Twas thus that money came
480  Whereby men count their riches, cause accursed
     Of warfare.  Hence came down that Python huge
     On Cirrha: hence the laurel wreath which crowns
     The Pythian victor: here Aloeus' sons
     Gigantic rose against the gods, what time
     Pelion had almost touched the stars supreme,
     And Ossa's loftier peak amid the sky
     Opposing, barred the constellations' way.

     When in this fated land the chiefs had placed
     Their several camps, foreboding of the end
490  Now fast approaching, all men's thoughts were turned
     Upon the final issue of the war.
     And as the hour drew near, the coward minds
     Trembling beneath the shadow of the fate
     Now hanging o'er them, deemed disaster near:
     While some took heart; yet doubted what might fall,
     In hope and fear alternate.  'Mid the throng
     Sextus, unworthy son of worthy sire
     Who soon upon the waves that Scylla guards, (29)
     Sicilian pirate, exile from his home,
500  Stained by his deeds of shame the fights he won,
     Could bear delay no more; his feeble soul,
     Sick of uncertain fate, by fear compelled,
     Forecast the future: yet consulted not
     The shrine of Delos nor the Pythian caves;
     Nor was he satisfied to learn the sound
     Of Jove's brass cauldron, 'mid Dodona's oaks,
     By her primaeval fruits the nurse of men:
     Nor sought he sages who by flight of birds,
     Or watching with Assyrian care the stars
510  And fires of heaven, or by victims slain,
     May know the fates to come; nor any source
     Lawful though secret.  For to him was known
     That which excites the hate of gods above;
     Magicians' lore, the savage creed of Dis
     And all the shades; and sad with gloomy rites
     Mysterious altars.  For his frenzied soul
     Heaven knew too little.  And the spot itself
     Kindled his madness, for hard by there dwelt
     The brood of Haemon (30) whom no storied witch
520  Of fiction e'er transcended; all their art
     In things most strange and most incredible;
     There were Thessalian rocks with deadly herbs
     Thick planted, sensible to magic chants,
     Funereal, secret: and the land was full
     Of violence to the gods: the Queenly guest (31)
     From Colchis gathered here the fatal roots
     That were not in her store: hence vain to heaven
     Rise impious incantations, all unheard;
     For deaf the ears divine: save for one voice
530  Which penetrates the furthest depths of airs
     Compelling e'en th' unwilling deities
     To hearken to its accents.  Not the care
     Of the revolving sky or starry pole
     Can call them from it ever.  Once the sound
     Of those dread tones unspeakable has reached
     The constellations, then nor Babylon
     Nor secret Memphis, though they open wide
     The shrines of ancient magic and entreat
     The gods, could draw them from the fires that smoke
540  Upon the altars of far Thessaly.
     To hearts of flint those incantations bring
     Love, strange, unnatural; the old man's breast
     Burns with illicit fire.  Nor lies the power
     In harmful cup nor in the juicy pledge
     Of love maternal from the forehead drawn; (32)
     Charmed forth by spells alone the mind decays,
     By poisonous drugs unharmed.  With woven threads
     Crossed in mysterious fashion do they bind
     Those whom no passion born of beauteous form
550  Or loving couch unites.  All things on earth
     Change at their bidding; night usurps the day;
     The heavens disobey their wonted laws;
     At that dread hymn the Universe stands still;
     And Jove while urging the revolving wheels
     Wonders they move not.  Torrents are outpoured
     Beneath a burning sun; and thunder roars
     Uncaused by Jupiter.  From their flowing locks
     Vapours immense shall issue at their call;
     When falls the tempest seas shall rise and foam (33)
560  Moved by their spell; though powerless the breeze
     To raise the billows.  Ships against the wind
     With bellying sails move onward.  From the rock
     Hangs motionless the torrent: rivers run
     Uphill; the summer heat no longer swells
     Nile in his course; Maeander's stream is straight;
     Slow Rhone is quickened by the rush of Saone;
     Hills dip their heads and topple to the plain;
     Olympus sees his clouds drift overhead;
     And sunless Scythia's sempiternal snows
570  Melt in mid-winter; the inflowing tides
     Driven onward by the moon, at that dread chant
     Ebb from their course; earth's axes, else unmoved,
     Have trembled, and the force centripetal
     Has tottered, and the earth's compacted frame
     Struck by their voice has gaped, (34) till through the void
     Men saw the moving sky.  All beasts most fierce
     And savage fear them, yet with deadly aid
     Furnish the witches' arts.  Tigers athirst
     For blood, and noble lions on them fawn
580  With bland caresses: serpents at their word
     Uncoil their circles, and extended glide
     Along the surface of the frosty field;
     The viper's severed body joins anew;
     And dies the snake by human venom slain.

     Whence comes this labour on the gods, compelled
     To hearken to the magic chant and spells,
     Nor daring to despise them?  Doth some bond
     Control the deities?  Is their pleasure so,
     Or must they listen?  and have silent threats
590  Prevailed, or piety unseen received
     So great a guerdon?  Against all the gods
     Is this their influence, or on one alone
     Who to his will constrains the universe,
     Himself constrained?  Stars most in yonder clime
     Shoot headlong from the zenith; and the moon
     Gliding serene upon her nightly course
     Is shorn of lustre by their poisonous chant,
     Dimmed by dark earthly fires, as though our orb
     Shadowed her brother's radiance and barred
600  The light bestowed by heaven; nor freshly shines
     Until descending nearer to the earth
     She sheds her baneful drops upon the mead.

     These sinful rites and these her sister's songs
     Abhorred Erichtho, fiercest of the race,
     Spurned for their piety, and yet viler art
     Practised in novel form.  To her no home
     Beneath a sheltering roof her direful head
     Thus to lay down were crime: deserted tombs
     Her dwelling-place, from which, darling of hell,
610  She dragged the dead.  Nor life nor gods forbad
     But that she knew the secret homes of Styx
     And learned to hear the whispered voice of ghosts
     At dread mysterious meetings. (35)  Never sun
     Shed his pure light upon that haggard cheek
     Pale with the pallor of the shades, nor looked
     Upon those locks unkempt that crowned her brow.
     In starless nights of tempest crept the hag
     Out from her tomb to seize the levin bolt;
     Treading the harvest with accursed foot
620  She burned the fruitful growth, and with her breath
     Poisoned the air else pure.  No prayer she breathed
     Nor supplication to the gods for help
     Nor knew the pulse of entrails as do men
     Who worship.  Funeral pyres she loves to light
     And snatch the incense from the flaming tomb.
     The gods at her first utterance grant her prayer
     For things unlawful, lest they hear again
     Its fearful accents: men whose limbs were quick
     With vital power she thrust within the grave
630  Despite the fates who owed them years to come:
     The funeral reversed brought from the tomb
     Those who were dead no longer; and the pyre
     Yields to her shameless clutch still smoking dust
     And bones enkindled, and the torch which held
     Some grieving sire but now, with fragments mixed
     In sable smoke and ceremental cloths
     Singed with the redolent fire that burned the dead.
     But those who lie within a stony cell
     Untouched by fire, whose dried and mummied frames
640  No longer know corruption, limb by limb
     Venting her rage she tears, the bloodless eyes
     Drags from their cavities, and mauls the nail
     Upon the withered hand: she gnaws the noose
     By which some wretch has died, and from the tree
     Drags down a pendent corpse, its members torn
     Asunder to the winds: forth from the palms
     Wrenches the iron, and from the unbending bond
     Hangs by her teeth, and with her hands collects
     The slimy gore which drips upon the limbs.

650  Where lay a corpse upon the naked earth
     On ravening birds and beasts of prey the hag
     Kept watch, nor marred by knife or hand her spoil,
     Till on his victim seized some nightly wolf; (36)
     Then dragged the morsel from his thirsty fangs;
     Nor fears she murder, if her rites demand
     Blood from the living, or some banquet fell
     Requires the panting entrail.  Pregnant wombs
     Yield to her knife the infant to be placed
     On flaming altars: and whene'er she needs
660  Some fierce undaunted ghost, he fails not her
     Who has all deaths in use.  Her hand has chased
     From smiling cheeks the rosy bloom of life;
     And with sinister hand from dying youth
     Has shorn the fatal lock: and holding oft
     In foul embraces some departed friend
     Severed the head, and through the ghastly lips,
     Held by her own apart, some impious tale
     Dark with mysterious horror hath conveyed
     Down to the Stygian shades.

                                   When rumour brought
670  Her name to Sextus, in the depth of night,
     While Titan's chariot beneath our earth
     Wheeled on his middle course, he took his way
     Through fields deserted; while a faithful band,
     His wonted ministers in deeds of guilt,
     Seeking the hag 'mid broken sepulchres,
     Beheld her seated on the crags afar
     Where Haemus falls towards Pharsalia's plain. (37)
     There was she proving for her gods and priests
     Words still unknown, and framing numbered chants
680  Of dire and novel purpose: for she feared
     Lest Mars might stray into another world,
     And spare Thessalian soil the blood ere long
     To flow in torrents; and she thus forbade
     Philippi's field, polluted with her song,
     Thick with her poisonous distilments sown,
     To let the war pass by.  Such deaths, she hopes,
     Soon shall be hers!  the blood of all the world
     Shed for her use!  to her it shall be given
     To sever from their trunks the heads of kings,
690  Plunder the ashes of the noble dead,
     Italia's bravest, and in triumph add
     The mightiest warriors to her host of shades.
     And now what spoils from Magnus' tombless corse
     Her hand may snatch, on which of Caesar's limbs
     She soon may pounce, she makes her foul forecast
     And eager gloats.

                         To whom the coward son
     Of Magnus thus: "Thou greatest ornament
     Of Haemon's daughters, in whose power it lies
     Or to reveal the fates, or from its course
700  To turn the future, be it mine to know
     By thy sure utterance to what final end
     Fortune now guides the issue.  Not the least
     Of all the Roman host on yonder plain
     Am I, but Magnus' most illustrious son,
     Lord of the world or heir to death and doom.
     The unknown affrights me: I can firmly face
     The certain terror.  Bid my destiny
     Yield to thy power the dark and hidden end,
     And let me fall foreknowing.  From the gods
710  Extort the truth, or, if thou spare the gods,
     Force it from hell itself.  Fling back the gates
     That bar th' Elysian fields; let Death confess
     Whom from our ranks he seeks.  No humble task
     I bring, but worthy of Erichtho's skill
     Of such a struggle fought for such a prize
     To search and tell the issue."

                                        Then the witch
     Pleased that her impious fame was noised abroad
     Thus made her answer: "If some lesser fates
     Thy wish had been to change, against their wish
720  It had been easy to compel the gods
     To its accomplishment.  My art has power
     When of one man the constellations press
     The speedy death, to compass a delay;
     And mine it is, though every star decrees
     A ripe old age, by mystic herbs to shear
     The life midway.  But should some purpose set
     From the beginning of the universe,
     And all the labouring fortunes of mankind,
     Be brought in question, then Thessalian art
730  Bows to the power supreme.  But if thou be
     Content to know the issue pre-ordained,
     That shall be swiftly thine; for earth and air
     And sea and space and Rhodopaean crags
     Shall speak the future.  Yet it easiest seems
     Where death in these Thessalian fields abounds
     To raise a single corpse.  From dead men's lips
     Scarce cold, in fuller accents falls the voice;
     Not from some mummied flame in accents shrill
     Uncertain to the ear."

                              Thus spake the hag
740  And through redoubled night, a squalid veil
     Swathing her pallid features, stole among
     Unburied carcases.  Fast fled the wolves,
     The carrion birds with maw unsatisfied
     Relaxed their talons, as with creeping step
     She sought her prophet.  Firm must be the flesh
     As yet, though cold in death, and firm the lungs
     Untouched by wound.  Now in the balance hung
     The fates of slain unnumbered; had she striven
     Armies to raise and order back to life
750  Whole ranks of warriors, the laws had failed
     Of Erebus; and, summoned up from Styx,
     Its ghostly tenants had obeyed her call,
     And rising fought once more.  At length the witch
     Picks out her victim with pierced throat agape
     Fit for her purpose.  Gripped by pitiless hook
     O'er rocks she drags him to the mountain cave
     Accursed by her fell rites, that shall restore
     The dead man's life.

                              Close to the hidden brink
     The land that girds the precipice of hell
760  Sinks towards the depths: with ever falling leaves
     A wood o'ershadows, and a spreading yew
     Casts shade impenetrable.  Foul decay
     Fills all the space, and in the deep recess
     Darkness unbroken, save by chanted spells,
     Reigns ever.  Not where gape the misty jaws
     Of caverned Taenarus, the gloomy bound
     Of either world, through which the nether kings
     Permit the passage of the dead to earth,
     So poisonous, mephitic, hangs the air.
770  Nay, though the witch had power to call the shades
     Forth from the depths, 'twas doubtful if the cave
     Were not a part of hell.  Discordant hues
     Flamed on her garb as by a fury worn;
     Bare was her visage, and upon her brow
     Dread vipers hissed, beneath her streaming locks
     In sable coils entwined.  But when she saw
     The youth's companions trembling, and himself
     With eyes cast down, with visage as of death,
     Thus spake the witch: "Forbid your craven souls
780  These fears to cherish: soon returning life
     This frame shall quicken, and in tones which reach
     Even the timorous ear shall speak the man.
     If I have power the Stygian lakes to show,
     The bank that sounds with fire, the fury band,
     And giants lettered, and the hound that shakes
     Bristling with heads of snakes his triple head,
     What fear is this that cringes at the sight
     Of timid shivering shades?"

                                   Then to her prayer.
     First through his gaping bosom blood she pours
790  Still fervent, washing from his wounds the gore.
     Then copious poisons from the moon distils
     Mixed with all monstrous things which Nature's pangs
     Bring to untimely birth; the froth from dogs
     Stricken with madness, foaming at the stream;
     A lynx's entrails: and the knot that grows
     Upon the fell hyaena; flesh of stags
     Fed upon serpents; and the sucking fish
     Which holds the vessel back (38) though eastern winds
     Make bend the canvas; dragon's eyes; and stones
800  That sound beneath the brooding eagle's wings.
     Nor Araby's viper, nor the ocean snake
     Who in the Red Sea waters guards the shell,
     Are wanting; nor the slough on Libyan sands
     By horned reptile cast; nor ashes fail
     Snatched from an altar where the Phoenix died.
     And viler poisons many, which herself
     Has made, she adds, whereto no name is given:
     Pestiferous leaves pregnant with magic chants
     And blades of grass which in their primal growth
810  Her cursed mouth had slimed.  Last came her voice
     More potent than all herbs to charm the gods
     Who rule in Lethe.  Dissonant murmurs first
     And sounds discordant from the tongues of men
     She utters, scarce articulate: the bay
     Of wolves, and barking as of dogs, were mixed
     With that fell chant; the screech of nightly owl
     Raising her hoarse complaint; the howl of beast
     And sibilant hiss of snake -- all these were there;
     And more -- the waft of waters on the rock,
820  The sound of forests and the thunder peal.
     Such was her voice; but soon in clearer tones
     Reaching to Tartarus, she raised her song:
     "Ye awful goddesses, avenging power
     Of Hell upon the damned, and Chaos huge
     Who striv'st to mix innumerable worlds,
     And Pluto, king of earth, whose weary soul
     Grieves at his godhead; Styx; and plains of bliss
     We may not enter: and thou, Proserpine,
     Hating thy mother and the skies above,
830  My patron goddess, last and lowest form (39)
     Of Hecate through whom the shades and I
     Hold silent converse; warder of the gate
     Who castest human offal to the dog:
     Ye sisters who shall spin the threads again; (40)
     And thou, O boatman of the burning wave,
     Now wearied of the shades from hell to me
     Returning, hear me if with voice I cry
     Abhorred, polluted; if the flesh of man
     Hath ne'er been absent from my proffered song,
840  Flesh washed with brains still quivering; if the child
     Whose severed head I placed upon the dish
     But for this hand had lived -- a listening ear
     Lend to my supplication!  From the caves
     Hid in the innermost recess of hell
     I claim no soul long banished from the light.
     For one but now departed, lingering still
     Upon the brink of Orcus, is my prayer.
     Grant (for ye may) that listening to the spell
     Once more he seek his dust; and let the shade
850  Of this our soldier perished (if the war
     Well at your hands has merited), proclaim
     The destiny of Magnus to his son."

     Such prayers she uttered; then, her foaming lips
     And head uplifting, present saw the ghost.
     Hard by he stood, beside the hated corpse
     His ancient prison, and loathed to enter in.
     There was the yawning chest where fell the blow
     That was his death; and yet the gift supreme
     Of death, his right, (Ah, wretch!) was reft away.
860  Angered at Death the witch, and at the pause
     Conceded by the fates, with living snake
     Scourges the moveless corse; and on the dead
     She barks through fissures gaping to her song,
     Breaking the silence of their gloomy home:
     "Tisiphone, Megaera, heed ye not?
     Flies not this wretched soul before your whips
     The void of Erebus?  By your very names,
     She-dogs of hell, I'll call you to the day,
     Not to return; through sepulchres and death
870  Your gaoler: from funereal urns and tombs
     I'll chase you forth.  And thou, too, Hecate,
     Who to the gods in comely shape and mien,
     Not that of Erebus, appearst, henceforth
     Wasted and pallid as thou art in hell

     At my command shalt come.  I'll noise abroad
     The banquet that beneath the solid earth
     Holds thee, thou maid of Enna; by what bond
     Thou lov'st night's King, by what mysterious stain
     Infected, so that Ceres fears from hell
880  To call her daughter.  And for thee, base king,
     Titan shall pierce thy caverns with his rays
     And sudden day shall smite thee.  Do ye hear?
     Or shall I summon to mine aid that god
     At whose dread name earth trembles; who can look
     Unflinching on the Gorgon's head, and drive
     The Furies with his scourge, who holds the depths
     Ye cannot fathom, and above whose haunts
     Ye dwell supernal; who by waves of Styx
     Forswears himself unpunished?"

                                        Then the blood
890  Grew warm and liquid, and with softening touch
     Cherished the stiffened wounds and filled the veins,
     Till throbbed once more the slow returning pulse
     And every fibre trembled, as with death
     Life was commingled.  Then, not limb by limb,
     With toil and strain, but rising at a bound
     Leaped from the earth erect the living man.
     Fierce glared his eyes uncovered, and the life
     Was dim, and still upon his face remained
     The pallid hues of hardly parted death.
900  Amazement seized upon him, to the earth
     Brought back again: but from his lips tight drawn
     No murmur issued; he had power alone
     When questioned to reply.  "Speak," quoth the hag,
     "As I shall bid thee; great shall be thy gain
     If but thou answerest truly, freed for aye
     From all Haemonian art.  Such burial place
     Shall now be thine, and on thy funeral pyre
     Such fatal woods shall burn, such chant shall sound,
     That to thy ghost no more or magic song
910  Or spell shall reach, and thy Lethaean sleep
     Shall never more be broken in a death
     From me received anew: for such reward
     Think not this second life enforced in vain.
     Obscure may be the answers of the gods
     By priestess spoken at the holy shrine;
     But whose braves the oracles of death
     In search of truth, should gain a sure response.
     Then speak, I pray thee.  Let the hidden fates
     Tell through thy voice the mysteries to come."

920  Thus spake she, and her words by mystic force
     Gave him his answer; but with gloomy mien,
     And tears swift flowing, thus he made reply:
     "Called from the margin of the silent stream
     I saw no fateful sisters spin the threads.
     Yet know I this, that 'mid the Roman shades
     Reigns fiercest discord; and this impious war
     Destroys the peace that ruled the fields of death.
     Elysian meads and deeps of Tartarus
     In paths diverse the Roman chieftains leave
930  And thus disclose the fates.  The blissful ghosts
     Bear visages of sorrow.  Sire and son
     The Decii, who gave themselves to death
     In expiation of their country's doom,
     And great Camillus, wept; and Sulla's shade
     Complained of fortune.  Scipio bewailed
     The scion of his race about to fall
     In sands of Libya: Cato, greatest foe
     To Carthage, grieves for that indignant soul
     Which shall disdain to serve.  Brutus alone
940  In all the happy ranks I smiling saw,
     First consul when the kings were thrust from Rome.
     The chains were fallen from boastful Catiline.
     Him too I saw rejoicing, and the pair
     Of Marii, and Cethegus' naked arm. (41)
     The Drusi, heroes of the people, joyed,
     In laws immoderate; and the famous pair (42)
     Of greatly daring brothers: guilty bands
     By bars eternal shut within the doors
     That close the prison of hell, applaud the fates,
950  Claiming the plains Elysian: and the King
     Throws wide his pallid halls, makes hard the points
     Of craggy rocks, and forges iron chains,
     The victor's punishment.  But take with thee
     This comfort, youth, that there a calm abode,
     And peaceful, waits thy father and his house.
     Nor let the glory of a little span
     Disturb thy boding heart: the hour shall come
     When all the chiefs shall meet.  Shrink not from death,
     But glowing in the greatness of your souls,
960  E'en from your humble sepulchres descend,
     And tread beneath your feet, in pride of place,
     The wandering phantoms of the gods of Rome. (43)
     Which of the chiefs by Tiber's yellow stream,
     And which by Nile shall rest (the leaders' fate)
     This fight decides, no more.  Nor seek to know
     From me thy fortunes: for the fates in time
     Shall give thee all thy due; and thy great sire, (44)
     A surer prophet, in Sicilian fields
     Shall speak thy future -- doubting even he
970  What regions of the world thou should'st avoid
     And what should'st seek.  O miserable race!
     Europe and Asia and Libya's plains, (45)
     Which saw your conquests, now shall hold alike
     Your burial-place -- nor has the earth for you
     A happier land than this."

                                   His task performed,
     He stands in mournful guise, with silent look
     Asking for death again; yet could not die
     Till mystic herb and magic chant prevailed.
     For nature's law, once used, had power no more
980  To slay the corpse and set the spirit free.
     With plenteous wood she builds the funeral pyre
     To which the dead man comes: then as the flames
     Seized on his form outstretched, the youth and witch
     Together sought the camp; and as the dawn
     Now streaked the heavens, by the hag's command
     The day was stayed till Sextus reached his tent,
     And mist and darkness veiled his safe return.


ENDNOTES:
(1)  Dyrrhachium (or Epidamnus) was a Corcyraean colony, but its
     founder was of Corinth, the metropolis of Corcyra.  It stood
     some sixty miles north of the Ceraunian promontory (Book V.,
     747).  About the year 1100 it was stormed and taken by
     Robert the Guiscard, after furious battles with the troops
     of the Emperor Alexius.  Its modern name is Durazzo.  It may
     be observed that, according to Caesar's account, he
     succeeded in getting between Pompey and Dyrrhachium, B.C. 3,
     41, 42.
(2)  C. del Faro, the N.E. point of Sicily.
(3)  The shores of Kent.
(4)  Aricia was situated on the Via Appia, about sixteen miles
     from Rome.  There was a temple of Diana close to it, among
     some woods on a small lake.  Aricia was Horace's first
     halting place on his journey to Brundisium ("Satires", i.
     5).  As to Diana, see Book I., line 501.
(5)  An island in the Bay of Puteoli.
(6)  Typhon, the hundred-headed giant, was buried under Mount
     Etna.
(7)  This was Scaeva's name.
(8)  The vinewood staff was the badge of the centurion's office.
(9)  This giant, like Typhon, was buried under Mount Etna.
(10) Juba and Petreius killed each other after the battle of
     Thepsus to avoid falling into Caesar's hands.  See Book IV.,
     line 5.
(11) So Cicero: "Shall I, who have been called saviour of the
     city and father of my country, bring into it an army of
     Getae Armenians and Colchians?" ("Ep. ad Atticum," ix., 10.)
(12) See Book VIII., line 3.
(13) Protesilaus, from this place, first landed at Troy.
(14) Thamyris challenged the Muses to a musical contest, and
     being vanquished, was by them deprived of sight.
(15) The arrows given to Philoctetes by Hercules as a reward for
     kindling his funeral pyre.
(16) This is the Pelasgic, not the historical, Argos.
(17) Book I., line 632; Book VII., line 904.  Agave was a
     daughter of Cadmus, and mother of Pentheus, king of the
     Boeotian Thebes.  He was opposed to the mysterious worship
     of Dionysus, which his mother celebrated, and which he had
     watched from a tree.  She tore him to pieces, being urged
     into a frenzy and mistaking him for a wild beast.  She then
     retired to another Thebes, in Phthiotis, in triumph, with
     his head and shoulders.  By another legend she did not leave
     the Boeotian Thebes. (See Grote, vol. i., p. 220. Edit.
     1862.)
(18) Aeas was a river flowing from the boundary of Thessaly
     through Epirus to the Ionian Sea.  The sire of Isis, or Io,
     was Inachus; but the river of that name is usually placed in
     the Argive territory.
(19) A river rising in Mount Pindus and flowing into the Ionian
     Sea nearly opposite to Ithaca.  At its mouth the sea has
     been largely silted up.
(20) The god of this river fought with Hercules for the hand of
     Deianira.  After Hercules had been married to Deianira, and
     when they were on a journey, they came to the River Evenus.
     Here Nessus, a Centaur, acted as ferryman, and Hercules bade
     him carry Deianira across.  In doing so he insulted her, and
     Hercules shot him with an arrow.
(21) Admetus was King of Pherae in Thessaly, and sued for
     Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, who promised her to him if
     he should come in a chariot drawn by lions and boars.  With
     the assistance of Apollo, Admetus performed this.  Apollo,
     for the slaughter of the Cyclops, was condemned to serve a
     mortal, and accordingly he tended the flocks of Admetus for
     nine years.  The River Amphrysos is marked as flowing into
     the Pagasaean Gulf at a short distance below Pherae.
(22) Anaurus was a small river passing into the Pagasaean Gulf
     past Iolcos.  In this river Jason is said to have lost one
     of his slippers.
(23) The River Peneus flowed into the sea through the pass of
     Tempe, cloven by Hercules between Olympus and Ossa (see line
     406); and carried with it Asopus, Phoenix, Melas, Enipeus,
     Apidanus, and Titaresus (or Eurotas).  The Styx is generally
     placed in Arcadia, but Lucan says that Eurotas rises from
     the Stygian pools, and that, mindful of this mysterious
     source, he refuses to mingle his streams with that of
     Peneus, in order that the gods may still fear to break an
     oath sworn upon his waters.
(24) See on line 429.
(25) Chiron, the aged Centaur, instructor of Peleus, Achilles,
     and others.  He was killed by one of the poisoned arrows of
     Hercules, but placed by Zeus among the stars as the Archer,
     from which position he appears to be aiming at the Scorpion.
     His constellation appears in winter.
(26) The teeth of the dragon slain by Cadmus; though this took
     place in Boeotia.
(27) Poseidon and Athena disputed as to which of them should name
     the capital of Attica.  The gods gave the reward to that one
     of them who should produce the thing most useful to man;
     whereupon Athena produced an olive tree, and Poseidon a
     horse.  Homer also places the scene of this event in
     Thessaly. ("Iliad", xxiii., 247.)
(28) The Argo.  Conf. Book III., 223.
(29) See Book VII., 1022.
(30) Son of Pelasgus.  From him was derived the ancient name of
     Thessaly, Haemonia.
(31) Medea.
(32) It was supposed that there was on the forehead of the new-
     born foal an excrescence, which was bitten off and eaten by
     the mother.  If she did not do this she had no affection for
     the foal. (Virgil, "Aeneid", iv., 515.)
(33)      "When the boisterous sea,
          Without a breath of wind, hath knocked the sky."
               -- Ben Jonson, "Masque of Queens".
(34) The sky was supposed to move round, but to be restrained in
     its course by the planets. (See Book X., line 244.)
(35) "Coatus audire silentum."  To be present at the meetings of
     the dead and hear their voices.  So, in the sixth Aeneid,
     the dead Greek warriors in feeble tones endeavour to express
     their fright at the appearance of the Trojan hero (lines
     492, 493).
(36) "As if that piece were sweeter which the wolf had bitten."
     Note to "The Masque of Queens", in which the first hag says:
          "I have been all day, looking after
          A raven feeding on a quarter,
          And soon as she turned her beak to the south
          I snatched this morsel out of her mouth."
               --Ben Jonson, "Masque of Queens".
     But more probably the meaning is that the wolf's bite gave
     the flesh magical efficacy.
(37) Confusing Pharsalia with Philippi. (See line 684.)
(38) One of the miraculous stories to be found in Pliny's
     "Natural History".  See Lecky's "Augustus to Charlemagne",
     vol. i., p. 370.
(39) The mysterious goddess Hecate was identified with Luna in
     heaven, Diana on earth, and Proserpine in the lower regions.
     The text is doubtful.
(40) That is, for the second life of her victim.
(41) See Book II., 609.
(42) The Gracchi, the younger of whom aimed at being a perpetual
     tribune, and was in some sort a forerunner of the Emperors.
(43) That is, the Caesars, who will be in Tartarus.
(44) Referring probably to an episode intended to be introduced
     in a later book, in which the shade of Pompeius was to
     foretell his fate to Sextus.
(45) Cnaeus was killed in Spain after the battle of Munda; Sextus
     at Miletus; Pompeius himself, of course, in Egypt.

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