Book 4
One calls by name his neighbour, one his host,
1
Another with his schoolmate talks again
Of olden studies: he who in the camp
Found not a comrade, was no son of Rome.
Wet are their arms with tears, and sobs break in
Upon their kisses; each, unstained by blood,
Dreads what he might have done. Why beat thy breast?
Why, madman, weep? The guilt is thine alone
To do or to abstain. Dost fear the man
Who takes his title to be feared from thee?
When Caesar's trumpets sound the call to arms
Heed not the summons; when thou seest advance
His standards, halt. The civil Fury thus
Shall fold her wings; and in a private robe
Caesar shall love his kinsman.
Who sway'st the universe, whose firm embrace
Binds the compacted fabric of the world;
Come, gentle Concord! these our times Saecula nostra may refer either to Lucan's own time or to the moment arrived at in the poem; or it may, as Francken suggests, have a more general meaning. do now
For good or evil destiny control
The coming centuries! Ah, cruel fate!
Now have the people lost their cloak for crime:
Their hope of pardon. They have known their kin.
Woe for the respite given by the gods
Making more black the hideous guilt to come!
Now all was peaceful, and in either camp
Sweet converse held the soldiers; on the grass
They place the meal, and pour the mingled cup;
Bright glows the turf upon the friendly fire;
On mutual couch with stories of their fights,
They while the sleepless hours in talk away;
'Where stood the ranks arrayed, from whose right hand
The quivering lance was sped:' and while they boast,
Or challenge, deeds of prowess in the war,
Faith is renewed and trust. Thus envious fate
Made worse their doom, and all the crimes to be
Grew with their love. For when Petreius knew
The treaties made, himself and all his camp
Sold to the foe, he stirred his guard to work
An impious slaughter: the defenceless foe
