CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.

 “By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, Caesar

 Commanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway.

 The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinder

 At first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness;

 But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, bound

 By ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers,

 Then, melted the snows!  And soon torrents newborn, from the
 heights of

 The mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandment

 Grow rigid, and, turn into ice, in their headlong rush downwards!

 Now, that which rushed madly a moment before, must be hacked
 through!

 But now, it was treacherous, baffling their steps and their footing

 Deceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion.

 And see!  Now the clouds, by an icy gale smitten, their burden

 Discharge!  Lo! the gusts of the whirlwind swirl fiercely
 about them;

 The sky in convulsions, with swollen hail buffets them sorely.

 Already the clouds themselves rupture and smother their weapons,

 An avalanche icy roars down like a billow of ocean;

 Earth lay overwhelmed by the drifts of the snow and the planets

 Of heaven are blotted from sight; overwhelmed are the rivers

 That cling to their banks, but unconquered is Caesar!  His javelin

 He leans on and scrunches with firm step a passage the bristling

 Grim ice fields across!  As, spurred on by the lust, of adventure

 Amphitryon’s offspring came striding the Caucasus slopes down;

 Or Jupiter’s menacing mien as, from lofty Olympus

 He leaped, the doomed giants to crush and to scatter their weapons.

 While Caesar in anger the swelling peaks treads down, winged rumor

 In terror flies forth and on beating wings seeks the high summit

 Of Palatine tall: every image she rocks with her message

 Announcing this thunderbolt Roman!  Already, the ocean

 Is tossing his fleets!  Now his cavalry, reeking with German

 Gore, pours from the Alps!  Slaughter, bloodshed, and weapons

 The red panorama of war is unrolled to their vision!

 By terror their hearts are divided: two counsels perplex them!

 One chooses by land to seek flight: to another, the water

 Appeals, and the sea than his own land is safer!  Another

 Will stand to his arms and advantage extort from Fate’s mandate.

 The depth of their fear marks the length of their flight!  In
 confusion

 The people itself--shameful spectacle--driven by terror

 Is led to abandon the city.  Rome glories in fleeing!

 The Quirites from battle blench!  Cowed by the breath of a rumor

 Relinquished their firesides to mourning!  One citizen, palsied

 With terror, his children embraces: another, his penates

 Conceals in his bosom; then, weeping, takes leave of his threshold

 And slaughters the distant invader--with curses!  Their spouses

 Some clasp to their sorrow-wracked bosoms!  Youths carry their
 fathers

 Bowed down with old age, uninured to the bearing of burdens.

 They seize what they dread to lose most.  Inexperience drags all

 Its chattels to camp and to battle: as, when powerful Auster

 Piles up the churned waters and tumbles them: never a yard-arm

 Nor rudder to answer the hand, here, one fashions a life-raft

 Of pine planks, another steers into some bay on a lee shore,

 Another will crack on and run from the gale and to Fortune

 Trust all!  But why sorrow for trifles?  The consuls, with Pompey

 The Great--he, the terror of Pontus, of savage Hydaspes

 Explorer, the reef that wrecked pirates, caused Jove to turn livid,

 When thrice was a triumph decreed him, whom Pontus’ vexed water

 And pacified billows of Bosphorus worshipped!  Disgraceful their

 Flight!  Title and glory forsaking!  Now Fortune capricious

 Looks down on the back of great Pompey retreating in terror!”