Book 6
Started from out their sockets, and the head
1
Drooped from sheer weariness. So the disease
Grew swifter in its strides till scarce was room,
'Twixt life and death, for sickness, and the pest
Slew as it struck its victim, and the dead
Thrust from the tents (such all their burial) lay
Blent with the living. Yet their camp was pitched
Hard by the breezy sea by which might come
All nations' harvests, and the northern wind
Not seldom rolled the murky air away.
Their foe, not vexed with pestilential air
Nor stagnant waters, ample range enjoyed
Upon the spacious uplands: yet as though
In leaguer, famine seized them for its prey.
Scarce were the crops half grown when Caesar saw
How prone they seized upon the food of beasts,
And stripped of leaves the bushes and the groves,
And dragged from roots unknown the doubtful herb,
Which might be death: all things they ate that fire
May soften, or teeth may bite, or arid throat
May swallow; things that never heretofore
Were placed on tables-thus the host at large-
Yet was there plenty with the leaguered foe.
When Magnus first was pleased to break his bonds,
No nightly dash he makes, by craft to seize
His sleeping foe unarmed: his soul had scorned
Such path obscure to victory. Twas his aim,
To lay the turrets low; to mark his track,
By ruin spread afar; and with the sword
To hew a path between his slaughtered foes.
Minucius'This was Scaeva's name. turret was the chosen spot
Where groves of trees and thickets gave approach
Safe, unbetrayed by dust. Up from the fields
Flashed all at once his eagles into sight
And all his trumpets blared. But ere the sword
Could win the battle, on the hostile ranks
Dread panic fell; prone as in death they lay
Where else upright they should withstand the foe;
Nor more availed their valour, and in vain
The cloud of weapons flew, with none to slay.
