Kitap 7
'Here on Thessalian earth? To-day we reap
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' Of all our wars the harvest or the doom.
' Think of the cross that threats us, and the chain,
' Limbs hacked asunder, Caesar's head displayed
' Upon the rostra; and that narrow field
' Piled up with slaughter: for this hostile chief
' Is savage Sulla's pupil. 'Tis for you,
' If conquered, that I grieve: my lot apart
' Is cast long since. This sword, should one of you
' Turn from the battle ere the foe be fled,
' Shall rob the life of Caesar. O ye gods,
' Drawn down from heaven by the throes of Rome,
' May he be conqueror who shall not draw
' Against the vanquished an inhuman sword,
' Nor count it as a crime if men of Rome
' Preferred another's standard to his own.
' Pompeius' sword drank deep Italian blood
'When cabined in yon space the brave man's arm
' No more found room to strike. But you, I pray,
' Touch not the foe who turns him from the fight,
' A fellow citizen, a foe no more.
' But while the gleaming weapons threaten still,
' Let no fond memories unnerve the arm,That such were Caesar's orders is attested by Appian.
' No pious thought of father or of kin;
' But full in face of brother or of sire,
' Drive home the blade: of victims e'en unknown
' Your foes account the slaughter as a crime.
' Spare not our camp, but lay the rampart low
' And fill the fosse with ruin; not a man
' But holds his post within the ranks to-day.
' And yonder tents, deserted by the foe,
' Shall give us shelter when the rout is done.'
Scarce had he paused; they snatch the hasty meal,
And seize their armour and with swift acclaim
Welcome the chief's predictions of the day,
Tread low their camp when rushing to the fight;
And take their post: nor word nor order given,
In fate they put their trust. Nor, hadst thou placed
All Caesars there, all striving for the throne
Of Rome their city, had their serried ranks
