Page:The Pharsalia of Lucan; (IA cu31924026485809).pdf/109

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Book III
MASSILIA
85
Tugs at the twisted stern; or from the seatsThe oarsmen driving, swings a bench in air.The ships are broken for the fight. They seize 740The fallen dead and snatch the sword that slew.Nay, many from their wounds, frenzied for arms,Pluck forth the deadly steel, and pressing stillUpon their yawning sides, hurl forth the spearBack to the hostile ranks from which it came;Then ebbs their life blood forth.But deadlier yetWas that fell force most hostile to the sea;For, thrown in torches and in sulphurous boltsFire all-consuming ran among the ships,Whose oily timbers soaked in pitch and wax 750Inflammable, gave welcome to the flames.Nor could the waves prevail against the blazeWhich claimed as for its own the fragments borneUpon the waters. Lo! on burning plankOne hardly 'scapes destruction; one to saveHis flaming ship, gives entrance to the main.Of all the forms of death each fears the oneThat brings immediate dying: yet quails notTheir heart in shipwreck: from the waves they pluckThe fallen darts and furnishing the ships. 760Essay the feeble stroke; and should that hopeStill fail their hand, they call the sea to aidAnd seizing in their grasp some floating foeDrag him to mutual death.But on that dayPhoceus above all others proved his skill.Well trained was he to dive beneath the mainAnd search the waters with unfailing eye;And should an anchor 'gainst the straining ropeToo firmly bite the sands, to wrench it free.
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