As brood of barbarous tigers having lapped The blood of many a herd, whilst with their dams They kenneled in Hircania, evermore Will rage and prey: so, Pompey, thou having licked Warm gore from Sylla's sword art yet athirst, Jaws fleshed with blood continue murderous.
Speak, when shall this thy long usurped power end? What end of mischief? Sylla teaching thee, At last learn wretch to leave thy monarchy. What, now Sicilian pirates are suppressed, And jaded King of Pontus poisoned slain, Must Pompey as his last foe plume on me, Because at his command I wound not up My conquering eagles? Say I merit nought, Yet for long service done, reward these men, And so they triumph, be't with whom ye will. Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair? What seats for their deserts? What store of ground For servitors to till? What colonies To rest their bones? Say Pompey, are these worse Than pirates of Sicilia? They had houses. Spread, spread these flags that ten years' space have conquered, Let's use our tried force, they that now thwart right In wars will yield to wrong: the gods are with us. Neither spoil, nor kingdom seek we by these arms, But Rome at thralldom's feet to rid from tyrants.
This spoke, none answered, but a murmuring buzz Th' unstable people made: their household gods And love Rome (though slaughter steeled their hearts And minds were prone) restrained them; but war's love And Caesar's awe dashed all: then Laelius The chief centurion crowned with oaken leaves, For saving of a Roman citizen, Stepped forth and cried: 'Chief leader of Rome's force, So be I may be bold speak a truth, We grieve at this thy patience and delay. What doubt'st thou us? Even now when youthful blood Pricks forth our lively bodies, and strong arms Can mainly throw the dart, wilt thou endure These purple grooms? That Senate's tyranny? Is conquest got by civil war so heinous? Well, lead us then Syrtes' desert shore; Or Scythia; or hot Libya's thirsty sands. This hand that all behind us might be quailed, Hath with thee passed the swelling Ocean, And swept the foaming breast of Arctic Rhine. Love overrules my will, I must obey thee, Caesar, he whom I hear thy trumpets charge I hold no Roman; by these ten blest ensigns And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels; Or father's throat; or woman's groaning womb; This hand (albeit unwilling) should perform it; Or rob the gods; or sacred temples fire: These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove. If to encamp on Tuscan Tiber's streams, I'll boldly quarter out the fields of Rome; What walls thou wilt be leveled with the ground, These hands shall thrust the ram, and make them fly, Albeit the city thou wouldst have so razed Be Rome itself. here every band applauded, And with their hands held up , all jointly cried
They'll follow where he please: the shouts rent heaven, As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks Beats Thracian Boreas; or when trees bow down, And rustling swing up as the wind fets breath.
When Caesar saw his army prone to war, And Fates so bent, lest sloth and long delay Might cross him, he withdrew his troops from France, And in all quarters musters men for Rome.
They by Lemannus' nook forsook their tents; They whom the Lingones foiled with painted spears, Under the rocks by crooked Vogesus; And many came from shallow Isara Who, running long, falls in a greater flood, And ere he sees the sea loseth his name; The yellow Ruthens left their garrisons; Mild Atax glad it bears not Roman boats, And frontier Varus that the camp is far, Sent aid; so did Alcides port, whose seas Eat hollow rocks, and where the northwest wind Nor zephyr rules not, but the north alone Turmoils the coast, and enterance forbids; And others came from that uncertain shore, Which is nor sea, nor land, but ofttimes both, And changeth as the ocean ebbs and flows: Whither the sea rolled always from that point, Whence the wind blows still forced to-and-fro; Or that the wandering main follow the moon; Or flaming Titan (feeding on the deep) Pulls them aloft, and makes the surge kiss heaven, Philosophers look you, for unto me Thou cause, whate'er thou be whom God assigns This great effect, art hid.