Book 2
' In headlong torrents ran a tide of blood,
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' Which furrowing its path through town and field
'Forced the slow river on. But now his banks
' No longer held him, and the dead were thrown
' Back on the fields above. With labour huge
'At length he struggled to his goal and stretched
' In crimson streak across the Tuscan Sea.
' For deeds like these, shall Sulla now be styled
' " Darling of Fortune," " Saviour of the State "?
' For these, a tomb in middle field of Mars
' Record his fame? Like horrors now return
' For us to suffer; and the civil war
' Thus shall be waged again and thus shall end.
'Yet worse disasters may our fears suggest,
' For now with greater carnage of mankind
' The rival hosts in weightier battle meet.
' To exiled Marius, the prize of war
' Was Rome regained; triumphant Sulla knew
' No greater joy than on his hated foes
' To wreak his vengeance with unsparing sword.
'But these more powerful rivals Fortune calls
' To worse ambitions; nor would either chief
'For such reward as Sulla's wage the war.'
Thus, mindful of his youth, the aged man
Wept for the past, but feared the coming days.
Such terrors found in haughty Brutus' breast
No home. When others sat them down to fear
He did not so, but in the dewy night
When the great wain was turning round the pole
He sought his kinsman Cato's humble home.
Him sleepless did he find, not for himself
Fearing, but pondering the fates of Rome,
And deep in public cares. And thus he spake:
'O thou in whom that virtue, which of yore
Took flight from earth, now finds its only home,
Outcast to all besides, but safe with thee:
Vouchsafe thy counsel to my wavering soul
And make my weakness strength. While Caesar some,
Pompeius others, follow in the fight,
Cato is Brutus' guide. Art thou for peace,
