Page:The Pharsalia of Lucan; (IA cu31924026485809).pdf/100

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76
PHARSALIA
Book III
Eternal, deathless, for that uncompelledNor fearing for herself, but free to actShe made the conqueror pause: and he who seizedAll in resistless course found here delay:And Fortune, hastening to lay the worldLow at her favourite's feet, was forced to stayFor these few moments her impatient hand.Now fell the forests far and wide, despoiledOf all their giant trunks: for as the mound 450On earth and brushwood stood, a timber frameHeld firm the soil, lest pressed beneath its towersThe mass might topple down. There stood a groveWhich from the earliest time no hand of manHad dared to violate; hidden from the sun[1]Its chill recesses; matted boughs entwinedPrisoned the air within. No sylvan nymphsHere found a home, nor Pan, but savage ritesAnd barbarous worship, altars horribleOn massive stones upreared; sacred with blood 460Of men was every tree. If faith be givenTo ancient myth, no fowl has ever daredTo rest upon those branches, and no beastHas made his lair beneath: no tempest falls,Nor lightnings flash upon it from the cloud.Stagnant the air, unmoving, yet the leavesFilled with mysterious trembling; dripped the streamsFrom coal-black fountains; effigies of godsRude, scarcely fashioned from some fallen trunkHeld the mid space: and, pallid with decay, 470Their rotting shapes struck terror. Thus do menDread most the god unknown. 'Twas said that cavesRumbled with earthquakes, that the prostrate yewRose up again; that fiery tongues of flame
  1. ↑ See note to Book I., 506.
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