Book 7
As in thy triumphs. With unaltered gaze
1
Look down upon the kings, thy subjects still;
Look on the realms and cities which they hold,
Egypt and Libya, gifts from thee of yore;
And choose the country that befits thy death.
Larissa first was witness of thy fall,
Thy noble mien, as victor of the fates;
And loud in sorrow, yet with gifts of price
Fit for a conqueror flung back her gates
And poured her citizens forth. ' Our homes and fanes
To thee are open; would it were our lot
With thee to perish; of thy mighty name
Still much survives and conquered by thyself,
Thyself alone, still couldst thou to the war
All nations call and challenge fate again.'
But thus he spake: 'To cities nor to men
Avails the conquered aught: then pledge your faith
To him who has the victory.' Caesar still
Trod deep in piles of slaughter on the field,
His country's vitals, while his daughter's spouse
Thus gave him kingdoms. But Pompeius fled
'Mid sobs and groans and blaming of the gods
For this their fierce commandment; and he fled
Full of the fruits and knowledge of the love
The peoples bore him, which he knew not his
Flowed deep enough upon the fatal field,
Caesar gave mercy to the meaner crowd
Whose deaths were vain. But that the hostile camp
Might not recall the foe, nor calm of night
Banish their fears, he bids his cohorts dash,
While Fortune glowed and terror filled the plain,
Straight on the ramparts of the conquered foe.
Light was the task to urge them to the spoil
Though worn by battle, wearied with the fray:
Soldiers,' he said, ' the victory is ours,
Full and triumphant: there doth lie the prize
Which you have won, not Caesar; at your feet
Behold the booty of the hostile camp.
