Book 8
Thus fail and yield: renown shall yet be thine,
1
To last through ages; not of laws decreed
Nor conquests won; a gentler path to thee
As to thy sex, is given; thy husband's woe.
Let thine affection struggle with the fates,
And in his misery love thy lord the more.
I bring thee greater glory, for that gone
Is all the pomp of lictors, gone the crowd
Of faithful senators, and the band of kings;
Now first Pompeius for himself alone
'Tis thine to love. Curb this unbounded grief,
' While yet I breathe, unseemly. O'er my tomb
' Weep out thy full, the final pledge of faith.
' Thou hast no loss, nor has the war destroyed
' Aught save my fortune. If for that thy grief,
Roused by her husband's words,
Yet scarcely could she raise her trembling limbs,
Thus speaking through her sobs: ' Would I had sought
' Detested Caesar's couch, ill-omened wife
' Of spouse unhappy; at my nuptials twice
' A Fury has been bridesmaid; and the ghosts
' Of slaughtered Crassi, with avenging shades
' Brought by my wedlock to thy doomed camp
' A Parthian massacre. Twice my star has cursed
' The world, and peoples have been hurled to death
' In one red moment; and the gods through me
' Have left the better cause. 0, hero mine,
' O mightiest husband, wedded to a wife
' Unworthy! 'Twas through her that Fortune gained
'The right to strike thee. Wherefore did I wed
' To bring thee misery? Mine, mine the guilt,
' Mine be the penalty. And that the wave
' May bear thee gently onwards, and the kings
'May keep their faith to thee, and all the earth
' Be ready to thy rule, me from thy side
' Cast to the billows. Rather had I died
' To bring thee victory; thy disasters thus,
Thus expiate. And, cruel Julia, thee,
' Who by this war hast vengeance on our vows,
