Page:The Pharsalia of Lucan; (IA cu31924026485809).pdf/34
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PHARSALIA
Book I
Furrowed of yore by great Camillus' plough,Or by the mattock which a Curius held,Lost their once narrow bounds, and widening tractsBy hinds unknown were tilled. No nation thisTo sheathe the sword, with tranquil peace contentAnd with her liberties; but prone to ire;Crime holding light as though by want compelled:And great the glory in the minds of men,Ambition lawful even at point of sword,To rise above their country: might their law: 200Decrees are forced from Senate and from Plebs:Consul and Tribune break the laws alike:Bought are the fasces, and the people sellFor gain their favour: bribery's fatal curseCorrupts the annual contests of the Field.Then covetous usury rose, and interestWas greedier ever as the seasons came;Faith tottered; thousands saw their gain in war.Cæsar has crossed the Alps, his mighty soulGreat tumults pondering and the coming shock. 210Now on the marge of Rubicon, he saw,In face most sorrowful and ghostly guise,His trembling country's image; huge it seemedThrough mists of night obscure; and hoary hairStreamed from the lofty front with turrets crowned:Torn were her locks and naked were her arms.Then thus, with broken sighs the Vision spake:'What seek ye, men of Rome? and whither hence'Bear ye my standards? If by right ye come,'My citizens, stay here; these are the bounds; 220'No further dare.' But Cæsar's hair was stiffWith horror as he gazed, and ghastly dreadRestrained his footsteps on the further bank.Then spake he, 'Thunderer, who from the rock