Kitap 1
' Were hard upon our track, we would not fly.
1
'And now, when fortune smiles and kindly gods
' Beckon us on to glory! -Let him come
' Fresh from his years of peace, with all his crowd
' Of conscript burgesses, Marcellus' tongue Marcus Marcellus, consul in B.C. 51.
' And Cato's empty name! We will not fly.
' Shall Eastern hordes and greedy hirelings keep
' Their loved Pompeius ever at the helm?
' Shall chariots of triumph be for him
'Though youth and law forbad them? Shall he seize
' On Rome's chief honours ne'er to be resigned?
' And what of harvests Plutarch, 'Pomp.,' 49. The harbours and places of trade were placed under his control in order that he might find a remedy for the scarcity of grain. But his enemies said that he had caused the scarcity in order to get the power. blighted through the world
' And ghastly famine made to serve his ends?
' Who hath forgotten how Pompeius' bands
' Seized on the forum? the grim sheen of swords
' When outraged justice trembled, and the spears
' Hemmed in the judgment-seat where Milo Milo was brought to trial for the murder of Clodius in B.C. 52, about three years before this. Pompeius, then sole Consul, had surrounded the tribunal with soldiers, who at one time charged the crowd. Milo was sent into exile at Massilia. stood?
' And now when worn and old and ripe for rest,See Book II., 631.
' Greedy of power, the impious sword again
' He draws. As tigers in Hyrcanian woods
' Wandering, or in the caves that saw their birth,
' Once having lapped the blood of slaughtered kine,
' Shall never cease from rage; e'en so this whelp
' Of cruel Sulla, nursed in civil war,
' Outstrips his master; and the tongue which licked
' That reeking weapon ever thirsts for more.
' Stain once the lips with blood, no other meal
' They shall enjoy. And shall there be no end
' Of these long years of power and of crime?
' Nay, this one lesson, ere it be too late,
' Learn of thy gentle Sulla-to retire!
' Of old his victory o'er Cilician thieves
' And Pontus' weary monarch gave him fame,
' By poison scarce attained. His latest prize
' Shall I be, Caesar, I, who would not quit
' My conquering eagles at his proud command?
' Nay, if no triumph is reserved for me,
' Let these at least of long and toilsome war
''Neath other leaders the rewards enjoy.
' Where shall the weary soldier find his rest?
