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Medieval and Classical Library

(aka "The Civil War")

Death of Pompeius

Online Medieval and Classical Library Release #16b

     Now through Alcides'(1) pass and Tempe's groves
     Pompeius, aiming for Haemonian glens
     And forests lone, urged on his wearied steed
     Scarce heeding now the spur; by devious tracks
     Seeking to veil the footsteps of his flight:
     The rustle of the foliage, and the noise
     Of following comrades filled his anxious soul
     With terrors, as he fancied at his side
     Some ambushed enemy.  Fallen from the height
10   Of former fortunes, still the chieftain knew
     His life not worthless; mindful of the fates:
     And 'gainst the price he set on Caesar's head,
     He measures Caesar's value of his own.

     Yet, as he rode, the features of the chief
     Made known his ruin.  Many as they sought
     The camp Pharsalian, ere yet was spread
     News of the battle, met the chief, amazed,
     And wondered at the whirl of human things:
     Nor held disaster sure, though Magnus' self
20   Told of his ruin.  Every witness seen
     Brought peril on his flight: 'twere better far
     Safe in a name obscure, through all the world
     To wander; but his ancient fame forbad.

     Too long had great Pompeius from the height
     Of human greatness, envied of mankind,
     Looked on all others; nor for him henceforth
     Could life be lowly.  The honours of his youth
     Too early thrust upon him, and the deeds
     Which brought him triumph in the Sullan days,
30   His conquering navy and the Pontic war,
     Made heavier now the burden of defeat,
     And crushed his pondering soul.  So length of days
     Drags down the haughty spirit, and life prolonged
     When power has perished.  Fortune's latest hour,
     Be the last hour of life!  Nor let the wretch
     Live on disgraced by memories of fame!
     But for the boon of death, who'd dare the sea
     Of prosperous chance?

                              Upon the ocean marge
     By red Peneus blushing from the fray,
40   Borne in a sloop, to lightest wind and wave
     Scarce equal, he, whose countless oars yet smote
     Upon Coreyra's isle and Leucas point,
     Lord of Cilicia and Liburnian lands,
     Crept trembling to the sea.  He bids them steer
     For the sequestered shores of Lesbos isle;
     For there wert thou, sharer of all his griefs,
     Cornelia!  Sadder far thy life apart
     Than wert thou present in Thessalia's fields.
     Racked is thy heart with presages of ill;
50   Pharsalia fills thy dreams; and when the shades
     Give place to coming dawn, with hasty step
     Thou tread'st some cliff sea-beaten, and with eyes
     Gazing afar art first to mark the sail
     Of each approaching bark: yet dar'st not ask
     Aught of thy husband's fate.

                                   Behold the boat
     Whose bending canvas bears her to the shore:
     She brings (unknown as yet) thy chiefest dread,
     Rumour of evil, herald of defeat,
     Magnus, thy conquered spouse.  Fear then no more,
60   But give to grief thy moments.  From the ship
     He leaps to land; she marks the cruel doom
     Wrought by the gods upon him: pale and wan
     His weary features, by the hoary locks
     Shaded; the dust of travel on his garb.
     Dark on her soul a night of anguish fell;
     Her trembling limbs no longer bore her frame:
     Scarce throbbed her heart, and prone on earth she lay
     Deceived in hope of death.  The boat made fast,
     Pompeius treading the lone waste of sand
70   Drew near; whom when Cornelia's maidens saw,
     They stayed their weeping, yet with sighs subdued,
     Reproached the fates; and tried in vain to raise
     Their mistress' form, till Magnus to his breast
     Drew her with cherishing arms; and at the touch
     Of soothing hands the life-blood to her veins
     Returned once more, and she could bear to look
     Upon his features.  He forbad despair,
     Chiding her grief.  "Not at the earliest blow
     By Fortune dealt, inheritress of fame
80   Bequeathed by noble fathers, should thy strength
     Thus fail and yield: renown shall yet be thine,
     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 power and all the crowd
     Of faithful senators and suppliant kings;
90   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
     That was thy love."

                              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
100  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 the doomed camp
     The 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.  O, hero mine,
     mightiest husband, wedded to a wife
     Unworthy!  'Twas through her that Fortune gained
110  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,
120  From thine abode I call: atonement find
     In this thy rival's death, and spare at least
     Thy Magnus."  Then upon his breast she fell,
     While all the concourse wept -- e'en Magnus' self,
     Who saw Thessalia's field without a tear.

     But now upon the shore a numerous band
     From Mitylene thus approached the chief:
     "If 'tis our greatest glory to have kept
     The pledge with us by such a husband placed,
     Do thou one night within these friendly walls
130  We pray thee, stay; thus honouring the homes
     Long since devoted, Magnus, to thy cause.
     This spot in days to come the guest from Rome
     For thee shall honour.  Nowhere shalt thou find
     A surer refuge in defeat.  All else
     May court the victor's favour; we long since
     Have earned his chastisement.  And though our isle
     Rides on the deep, girt by the ocean wave,
     No ships has Caesar: and to us shall come,
     Be sure, thy captains, to our trusted shore,
140  The war renewing.  Take, for all is thine,
     The treasures of our temples and the gold,
     Take all our youth by land or on the sea
     To do thy bidding: Lesbos only asks
     This from the chief who sought her in his pride,
     Not in his fall to leave her."  Pleased in soul
     At such a love, and joyed that in the world
     Some faith still lingered, thus Pompeius said:
     "Earth has for me no dearer land than this.
     Did I not trust it with so sweet a pledge
150  And find it faithful?  Here was Rome for me,
     Country and household gods.  This shore I sought
     Home of my wife, this Lesbos, which for her
     Had merited remorseless Caesar's ire:
     Nor was afraid to trust you with the means
     To gain his mercy.  But enough -- through me
     Your guilt was caused -- I part, throughout the world
     To prove my fate.  Farewell thou happiest land!
     Famous for ever, whether taught by thee
     Some other kings and peoples may be pleased
160  To give me shelter; or should'st thou alone
     Be faithful.  And now seek I in what lands
     Right may be found or wrong.  My latest prayer
     Receive, O deity, if still with me
     Thou bidest, thus.  May it be mine again,
     Conquered, with hostile Caesar on my tracks
     To find a Lesbos where to enter in
     And whence to part, unhindered."

                                        In the boat
     He placed his spouse: while from the shore arose
     Such lamentation, and such hands were raised
170  In ire against the gods, that thou had'st deemed
     All left their kin for exile, and their homes.
     And though for Magnus grieving in his fall
     Yet for Cornelia chiefly did they mourn
     Long since their gentle guest.  For her had wept
     The Lesbian matrons had she left to join
     A victor husband: for she won their love,
     By kindly modesty and gracious mien,
     Ere yet her lord was conquered, while as yet
     Their fortunes stood.

                              Now slowly to the deep
180  Sank fiery Titan; but not yet to those
     He sought (if such there be), was shown his orb,
     Though veiled from those he quitted.  Magnus' mind,
     Anxious with waking cares, sought through the kings
     His subjects, and the cities leagued with Rome
     In faith, and through the pathless tracts that lie
     Beyond the southern bounds: until the toil
     Of sorrowing thought upon the past, and dread
     Of that which might be, made him cast afar
     His wavering doubts, and from the captain seek
190  Some counsel on the heavens; how by the sky
     He marked his track upon the deep; what star
     Guided the path to Syria, and what points
     Found in the Wain would pilot him aright
     To shores of Libya.  But thus replied
     The well-skilled watcher of the silent skies:
     "Not by the constellations moving ever
     Across the heavens do we guide our barks;
     For that were perilous; but by that star (2)
     Which never sinks nor dips below the wave,
200  Girt by the glittering groups men call the Bears.
     When stands the pole-star clear before the mast,
     Then to the Bosphorus look we, and the main
     Which carves the coast of Scythia.  But the more
     Bootes dips, and nearer to the sea
     Is Cynosura seen, so much the ship
     Towards Syria tends, till bright Canopus (3) shines,
     In southern skies content to hold his course;
     With him upon the left past Pharos borne
     Straight for the Syrtes shalt thou plough the deep.
210  But whither now dost bid me shape the yards
     And set the canvas?"

                              Magnus, doubting still;
     "This only be thy care: from Thracia steer
     The vessel onward; shun with all thy skill
     Italia's distant shore: and for the rest
     Trust to the winds for guidance.  When I sought,
     Pledged with the Lesbians, my spouse beloved,
     My course was sure: now, Fortune, where thou wilt
     Give me a refuge."  These his answering words.

     The pilot, as they hung from level yards
220  Shifted the sails; and hauling to the stern
     One sheet, he slacked the other, to the left
     Steering, where Samian rocks and Chian marred
     The stillness of the waters; while the sea
     Sent up in answer to the changing keel
     A different murmur.  Not so deftly turns
     Curbing his steeds, his wain the Charioteer,
     While glows his dexter wheel, and with the left
     He almost touches, yet avoids the goal.

     Now Titan veiled the stars and showed the shore;
230  When, following Magnus, came a scattered band
     Saved from the Thracian storm.  From Lesbos' port
     His son; (4) next, captains who preserved their faith;
     For at his side, though vanquished in the field,
     Cast down by fate, in exile, still there stood,
     Lords of the earth and all her Orient realms,
     The Kings, his ministers.

                                   To the furthest lands
     He bids (5) Deiotarus: "O faithful friend,
     Since in Emathia's battle-field was lost
     The world, so far as Roman, it remains
240  To test the faith of peoples of the East
     Who drink of Tigris and Euphrates' stream,
     Secure as yet from Caesar.  Be it thine
     Far as the rising of the sun to trace
     The fates that favour Magnus: to the courts
     Of Median palaces, to Scythian steppes;
     And to the son of haughty Arsaces,
     To bear my message, `Hold ye to the faith,
     Pledged by your priests and by the Thunderer's name
     Of Latium sworn?  Then fill your quivers full,
250  Draw to its fullest span th' Armenian bow;
     And, Getan archers, wing the fatal shaft.
     And you, ye Parthians, if when I sought
     The Caspian gates, and on th' Alaunian tribes (6)
     Fierce, ever-warring, pressed, I suffered you
     In Persian tracts to wander, nor compelled
     To seek for shelter Babylonian walls;
     If beyond Cyrus' kingdom (7) and the bounds
     Of wide Chaldaea, where from Nysa's top
     Pours down Hydaspes, and the Ganges flood
260  Foams to the ocean, nearer far I stood
     Than Persia's bounds to Phoebus' rising fires;
     If by my sufferance, Parthians, you alone
     Decked not my triumphs, but in equal state
     Sole of all Eastern princes, face to face
     Met Magnus in his pride, nor only once
     Through me were saved; (for after that dread day
     Who but Pompeius soothed the kindling fires
     Of Latium's anger?) -- by my service paid
     Come forth to victory: burst the ancient bounds
270  By Macedon's hero set: in Magnus' cause
     March, Parthians, to Rome's conquest.  Rome herself
     Prays to be conquered.'"

                                   Hard the task imposed;
     Yet doffed his robe, and swift obeyed, the king
     Wrapped in a servant's mantle.  If a Prince
     For safety play the boor, then happier, sure,
     The peasant's lot than lordship of the world.

     The king thus parted, past Icaria's rocks
     Pompeius' vessel skirts the foamy crags
     Of little Samos: Colophon's tranquil sea
280  And Ephesus lay behind him, and the air
     Breathed freely on him from the Coan shore.
     Cuidos he shunned, and, famous for its sun,
     Rhodos, and steering for the middle deep
     Escaped the windings of Telmessus' bay;
     Till rose Pamphylian coasts before the bark,
     And first the fallen chieftain dared to find
     In small Phaseils shelter; for therein
     Scarce was the husbandman, and empty homes
     Forbad to fear.  Next Taurus' heights he saw
290  And Dipsus falling from his lofty sides:
     So sailed he onward.

                              Did Pompeius hope,
     Thus severed by the billows from the foe,
     To make his safety sure?  His little boat
     Flies unmolested past Cilician shores;
     But to their exiled lord in chiefest part
     The senate of Rome was drawn.  Celendrae there
     Received their fleet, where fair Selinus' stream
     In spacious bay gives refuge from the main;
     And to the gathered chiefs in mournful words
300  At length Pompeius thus resolved his thoughts:
     "O faithful comrades mine in war and flight!
     To me, my country!  Though this barren shore
     Our place of meeting, and no gathered host
     Surrounds us, yet upon our changed estate
     I seek your counsel.  Rouse ye as of yore
     With hearts of courage!  Magnus on the field
     Not all is perished, nor do fates forbid
     But that I rise afresh with living hope
     Of future victories, and spurn defeat.
310  From Libyan ruins did not Marius rise
     Again recorded Consul on the page
     Full of his honours?  shall a lighter blow
     Keep Magnus down, whose thousand chiefs and ships
     Still plough the billows; by defeat his strength
     Not whelmed but scattered?  And the fame alone
     Of our great deeds of glory in the past
     Shall now protect us, and the world unchanged
     Still love its hero.

                              "Weigh upon the scales
     Ye chiefs, which best may help the needs of Rome,
320  In faith and armies; or the Parthian realm
     Egypt or Libya.  For myself, ye chiefs,
     I veil no secret thoughts, but thus advise.
     Place no reliance on the Pharian king;
     His age forbids: nor on the cunning Moor,
     Who vain of Punic ancestors, and vain
     Of Carthaginian memories and descent (8)
     Supposed from Hannibal, and swollen with pride
     At Varus' supplication, sees in thought
     Rome lie beneath him.  Wherefore, comrades, seek
330  At speed, the Eastern world.  Those mighty realms
     Disjoins from us Euphrates, and the gates
     Called Caspian; on another sky than ours
     There day and night revolve; another sea
     Of different hue is severed from our own. (9)
     Rule is their wish, nought else: and in their plains
     Taller the war-horse, stronger twangs the bow;
     There fails nor youth nor age to wing the shaft
     Fatal in flight.  Their archers first subdued
     The lance of Macedon and Baetra's (10) walls,
340  Home of the Mede; and haughty Babylon
     With all her storied towers: nor shall they dread
     The Roman onset; trusting to the shafts
     By which the host of fated Crassus fell.
     Nor trust they only to the javelin blade
     Untipped with poison: from the rancorous edge
     The slightest wound deals death.

                                        "Would that my lot
     Forced me not thus to trust that savage race
     Of Arsaces! (11)  Yet now their emulous fate
     Contends with Roman destinies: the gods
350  Smile favouring on their nation.  Thence I'll pour
     On Caesar peoples from another earth
     And all the Orient ravished from its home.
     But should the East and barbarous treaties fail,
     Fate, bear our shipwrecked fortunes past the bounds
     Of earth, as known to men.  The kings I made
     I supplicate not, but in death shall take
     To other spheres this solace: chief of all;
     His hands, my kinsman's, never shed my blood
     Nor soothed me dying.  Yet as my mind in turn
360  The varying fortunes of my life recalls,
     How was I glorious in that Eastern world!
     How great my name by far Maeotis marsh
     And where swift Tanais flows!  No other land
     Has so resounded with my conquests won,
     So sent me home triumphant.  Rome, do thou
     Approve my enterprise!  What happier chance
     Could favouring gods afford thee?  Parthian hosts
     Shall fight the civil wars of Rome, and share
     Her ills, and fall enfeebled.  When the arms
370  Of Caesar meet with Parthian in the fray,
     Then must kind Fortune vindicate my lot
     Or Crassus be avenged."

                              But murmurs rose,
     And Magnus speaking knew his words condemned.
     Then Lentulas (12) answered, with indignant soul,
     Foremost to rouse their valour, thus in words
     Worthy a Consul: "Have Thessalian woes
     Broken thy spirit so?  One day's defeat
     Condemned the world to ruin?  Is the cause
     Lost in one battle and beyond recall?
380  Find we no cure for wounds?  Does Fortune drive
     Thee, Magnus, to the Parthians' feet alone?
     And dost thou, fugitive, spurn the lands and skies
     Known heretofore, and seek for other poles
     And constellations, and Chaldaean gods,
     And rites barbarian, servant of the realm Of
     Parthia?  But why then took we arms
     For love of liberty?  If thou canst slave
     Thou hast deceived the world!  Shall Parthia see
     Thee at whose name, ruler of mighty Rome,
390  She trembled, at whose feet she captive saw
     Hyrcanian kings and Indian princes kneel,
     Now humbly suppliant, victim of the fates;
     And at thy prayer her puny strength extol
     In mad contention with the Western world?
     Nor think, Pompeius, thou shalt plead thy cause
     In that proud tongue unknown to Parthian ears
     Of which thy fame is worthy; sobs and tears
     He shall demand of thee.  And has our shame
     Brought us to this, that some barbarian foe
400  Shall venge Hesperia's wrongs ere Rome her own?
     Thou wert our leader for the civil war:
     Mid Scythia's peoples dost thou bruit abroad
     Wounds and disasters which are ours alone?
     Rome until now, though subject to the yoke
     Of civic despots, yet within her walls
     Has brooked no foreign lord.  And art thou pleased
     From all the world to summon to her gates
     These savage peoples, while the standards lost
     By far Euphrates when the Crassi fell
410  Shall lead thy columns?  Shall the only king
     Who failed Emathia, while the fates yet hid
     Their favouring voices, brave the victor's power,
     And join with thine his fortune?  Nay, not so
     This nation trusts itself.  Each race that claims
     A northern birth, unconquered in the fray
     Claims but the warrior's death; but as the sky
     Slopes towards the eastern tracts and gentler climes
     So are the nations.  There in flowing robes
     And garments delicate are men arrayed.
420  True that the Parthian in Sarmatia's plains,
     Where Tigris spreads across the level meads,
     Contends invincible; for flight is his
     Unbounded; but should uplands bar his path
     He scales them not; nor through the night of war
     Shall his weak bow uncertain in its aim
     Repel the foeman; nor his strength of arm
     The torrent stem; nor all a summer's day
     In dust and blood bear up against the foe.
     They fill no hostile trench, nor in their hands
430  Shall battering engine or machine of war
     Dash down the rampart; and whate'er avails
     To stop their arrows, battles like a wall. (13)
     Wide sweep their horsemen, fleeting in attack
     And light in onset, and their troops shall yield
     A camp, not take it: poisoned are their shafts;
     Nor do they dare a combat hand to hand;
     But as the winds may suffer, from afar
     They draw their bows at venture.  Brave men love
     The sword which, wielded by a stalwart arm,
440  Drives home the blow and makes the battle sure.
     Not such their weapons; and the first assault
     Shall force the flying Mede with coward hand
     And empty quiver from the field.  His faith
     In poisoned blades is placed; but trustest thou
     Those who without such aid refuse the war?
     For such alliance wilt thou risk a death,
     With all the world between thee and thy home?
     Shall some barbarian earth or lowly grave
     Enclose thee perishing?  E'en that were shame
450  While Crassus seeks a sepulchre in vain.
     Thy lot is happy; death, unfeared by men,
     Is thy worst doom, Pompeius; but no death
     Awaits Cornelia -- such a fate for her
     This king shall not reserve; for know not we
     The hateful secrets of barbarian love,
     Which, blind as that of beasts, the marriage bed
     Pollutes with wives unnumbered?  Nor the laws
     By nature made respect they, nor of kin.
     In ancient days the fable of the crime
460  By tyrant Oedipus unwitting wrought,
     Brought hate upon his city; but how oft
     Sits on the throne of Arsaces a prince
     Of birth incestuous?  This gracious dame
     Born of Metellus, noblest blood of Rome,
     Shall share the couch of the barbarian king
     With thousand others: yet in savage joy,
     Proud of her former husbands, he may grant
     Some larger share of favour; and the fates
     May seem to smile on Parthia; for the spouse
470  Of Crassus, captive, shall to him be brought
     As spoil of former conquest.  If the wound
     Dealt in that fell defeat in eastern lands
     Still stirs thy heart, then double is the shame
     First to have waged the war upon ourselves,
     Then ask the foe for succour.  For what blame
     Can rest on thee or Caesar, worse than this
     That in the clash of conflict ye forgot
     For Crassus' slaughtered troops the vengeance due?
     First should united Rome upon the Mede
480  Have poured her captains, and the troops who guard
     The northern frontier from the Dacian hordes;
     And all her legions should have left the Rhine
     Free to the Teuton, till the Parthian dead
     Were piled in heaps upon the sands that hide
     Our heroes slain; and haughty Babylon
     Lay at her victor's feet.  To this foul peace
     We pray an end; and if Thessalia's day
     Has closed our warfare, let the conqueror march
     Straight on our Parthian foe.  Then should this heart,
490  Then only, leap at Caesar's triumph won.
     Go thou and pass Araxes' chilly stream
     On this thine errand; and the fleeting ghost
     Pierced by the Scythian shaft shall greet thee thus:
     `Art thou not he to whom our wandering shades
     Looked for their vengeance in the guise of war?
     And dost thou sue for peace?'  There shalt thou meet
     Memorials of the dead.  Red is yon wall
     Where passed their headless trunks: Euphrates here
     Engulfed them slain, or Tigris' winding stream
500  Cast on the shore to perish.  Gaze on this,
     And thou canst supplicate at Caesar's feet
     In mid Thessalia seated.  Nay, thy glance
     Turn on the Roman world, and if thou fear'st
     King Juba faithless and the southern realms,
     Then seek we Pharos.  Egypt on the west
     Girt by the trackless Syrtes forces back
     By sevenfold stream the ocean; rich in glebe
     And gold and merchandise; and proud of Nile
     Asks for no rain from heaven.  Now holds this boy
510  Her sceptre, owed to thee; his guardian thou:
     And who shall fear this shadow of a name?
     Hope not from monarchs old, whose shame is fled,
     Or laws or troth or honour of the gods:
     New kings bring mildest sway." (14)

                                        His words prevailed
     Upon his hearers.  With what freedom speaks,
     When states are trembling, patriot despair!
     Pompeius' voice was quelled.

                                   They hoist their sails
     For Cyprus shaped, whose altars more than all
     The goddess loves who from the Paphian wave
520  Sprang, mindful of her birth, if such be truth,
     And gods have origin.  Past the craggy isle
     Pompeius sailing, left at length astern
     Its southern cape, and struck across the main
     With winds transverse and tides; nor reached the mount
     Grateful to sailors for its nightly gleam:
     But to the bounds of Egypt hardly won
     With battling canvas, where divided Nile
     Pours through the shallows his Pelusian stream. (15)
     Now was the season when the heavenly scale
530  Most nearly balances the varying hours,
     Once only equal; for the wintry day
     Repays to night her losses of the spring;
     And Magnus learning that th' Egyptian king
     Lay by Mount Casius, ere the sun was set
     Or flagged his canvas, thither steered his ship.

     Already had a horseman from the shore
     In rapid gallop to the trembling court
     Brought news their guest was come.  Short was the time
     For counsel given; but in haste were met
540  All who advised the base Pellaean king,
     Monsters, inhuman; there Achoreus sat
     Less harsh in failing years, in Memphis born
     Of empty rites, and guardian of the rise (16)
     Of fertilising Nile.  While he was priest
     Not only once had Apis (17) lived the space
     Marked by the crescent on his sacred brow.
     First was his voice, for Magnus raised and troth
     And for the pledges of the king deceased:
     But, skilled in counsel meet for shameless minds
550  And tyrant hearts, Pothinus, dared to claim
     Judgment of death on Magnus.  "Laws and right
     Make many guilty, Ptolemmus king.
     And faith thus lauded (18) brings its punishment
     When it supports the fallen.  To the fates
     Yield thee, and to the gods; the wretched shun
     But seek the happy.  As the stars from earth
     Differ, and fire from ocean, so from right
     Expedience. (19)  The tyrant's shorn of strength
     Who ponders justice; and regard for right
560  Bring's ruin on a throne.  For lawless power
     The best defence is crime, and cruel deeds
     Find safety but in doing.  He that aims
     At piety must flee the regal hall;
     Virtue's the bane of rule; he lives in dread
     Who shrinks from cruelty.  Nor let this chief
     Unpunished scorn thy youth, who thinks that thou
     Not even the conquered from our shore can'st bar.
     Nor to a stranger, if thou would'st not reign,
     Resign thy sceptre, for the ties of blood
570  Speak for thy banished sister.  Let her rule
     O'er Nile and Pharos: we shall at the least
     Preserve our Egypt from the Latian arms.
     What Magnus owned not ere the war was done,
     No more shall Caesar.  Driven from all the world,
     Trusting no more to Fortune, now he seeks
     Some foreign nation which may share his fate.
     Shades of the slaughtered in the civil war
     Compel him: nor from Caesar's arms alone
     But from the Senate also does he fly,
580  Whose blood outpoured has gorged Thessalian fowl;
     Monarchs he fears whose all he hath destroyed,
     And nations piled in one ensanguined heap,
     By him deserted.  Victim of the blow
     Thessalia dealt, refused in every land,
     He asks for help from ours not yet betrayed.
     But none than Egypt with this chief from Rome
     Has juster quarrel; who has sought with arms
     To stain our Pharos, distant from the strife
     And peaceful ever, and to make our realm
590  Suspected by his victor.  Why alone
     Should this our country please thee in thy fall?
     Why bringst thou here the burden of thy fates,
     Pharsalia's curse?  In Caesar's eyes long since
     We have offence which by the sword alone
     Can find its condonation, in that we
     By thy persuasion from the Senate gained
     This our dominion.  By our prayers we helped
     If not by arms thy cause.  This sword, which fate
     Bids us make ready, not for thee I hold
600  Prepared, but for the vanquished; and on thee
     (Would it had been on Caesar) falls the stroke;
     For we are borne. as all things, to his side.
     And dost thou doubt, since thou art in my power,
     Thou art my victim?  By what trust in us
     Cam'st thou, unhappy?  Scarce our people tills
     The fields, though softened by the refluent Nile:
     Know well our strength, and know we can no more.
     Rome 'neath the ruin of Pompeius lies:
     Shalt thou, king, uphold him?  Shalt thou dare
610  To stir Pharsalia's ashes and to call
     War to thy kingdom?  Ere the fight was fought
     We joined not either army -- shall we now
     Make Magnus friend whom all the world deserts?
     And fling a challenge to the conquering chief
     And all his proud successes?  Fair is help
     Lent in disaster, yet reserved for those
     Whom fortune favours.  Faith her friends selects
     Not from the wretched."

                              They decree the crime:
     Proud is the boyish tyrant that so soon
620  His slaves permit him to so great a deed
     To give his favouring voice; and for the work
     They choose Achillas.

                              Where the treacherous shore
     Runs out in sand below the Casian mount
     And where the shallow waters of the sea
     Attest the Syrtes near, in little boat
     Achillas and his partners in the crime
     With swords embark.  Ye gods!  and shall the Nile
     And barbarous Memphis and th' effeminate crew
     That throngs Pelusian Canopus raise
630  Its thoughts to such an enterprise?  Do thus
     Our fates press on the world?  Is Rome thus fallen
     That in our civil frays the Phaxian sword
     Finds place, or Egypt?  O, may civil war
     Be thus far faithful that the hand which strikes
     Be of our kindred; and the foreign fiend
     Held worlds apart!  Pompeius, great in soul,
     Noble in spirit, had deserved a death
     From Caesar's self.  And, king, hast thou no fear
     At such a ruin of so great a name?
640  And dost thou dare when heaven's high thunder rolls,
     Thou, puny boy, to mingle with its tones
     Thine impure utterance?  Had he not won
     A world by arms, and thrice in triumph scaled
     The sacred Capitol, and vanquished kings,
     And championed the Roman Senate's cause;
     He, kinsman of the victor?  'Twas enough
     To cause forbearance in a Pharian king,
     That he was Roman.  Wherefore with thy sword
     Dost stab our breasts?  Thou know'st not, impious boy,
650  How stand thy fortunes; now no more by right
     Hast thou the sceptre of the land of Nile;
     For prostrate, vanquished in the civil wars
     Is he who gave it.

                         Furling now his sails,
     Magnus with oars approached th' accursed land,
     When in their little boat the murderous crew
     Drew nigh, and feigning from th' Egyptian court
     A ready welcome, blamed the double tides
     Broken by shallows, and their scanty beach
     Unfit for fleets; and bade him to their craft
660  Leaving his loftier ship.  Had not the fates'
     Eternal and unalterable laws
     Called for their victim and decreed his end
     Now near at hand, his comrades' warning voice
     Yet might have stayed his course: for if the court
     To Magnus, who bestowed the Pharian crown,
     In truth were open, should not king and fleet
     In pomp have come to greet him?  But he yields:
     The fates compel.  Welcome to him was death
     Rather than fear.  But, rushing to the side,
670  His spouse would follow, for she dared not stay,
     Fearing the guile.  Then he, "Abide, my wife,
     And son, I pray you; from the shore afar
     Await my fortunes; mine shall be the life
     To test their honour."  But Cornelia still
     Withstood his bidding, and with arms outspread
     Frenzied she cried: "And whither without me,
     Cruel, departest?  Thou forbad'st me share
     Thy risks Thessalian; dost again command
     That I should part from thee?  No happy star
680  Breaks on our sorrow.  If from every land
     Thou dost debar me, why didst turn aside
     In flight to Lesbos?  On the waves alone
     Am I thy fit companion?"  Thus in vain,
     Leaning upon the bulwark, dazed with dread;
     Nor could she turn her straining gaze aside,
     Nor see her parting husband.  All the fleet
     Stood silent, anxious, waiting for the end:
     Not that they feared the murder which befell,
     But lest their leader might with humble prayer
690  Kneel to the king he made.

                                   As Magnus passed,
     A Roman soldier from the Pharian boat,
     Septimius, salutes him.  Gods of heaven!
     There stood he, minion to a barbarous king,
     Nor bearing still the javelin of Rome;
     But vile in all his arms; giant in form
     Fierce, brutal, thirsting as a beast may thirst
     For carnage.  Didst thou, Fortune, for the sake
     Of nations, spare to dread Pharsalus field
     This savage monster's blows?  Or dost thou place
700  Throughout the world, for thy mysterious ends,
     Some ministering swords for civil war?
     Thus, to the shame of victors and of gods,
     This story shall be told in days to come:
     A Roman swordsman, once within thy ranks,
     Slave to the orders of a puny prince,
     Severed Pompeius' neck.  And what shall be
     Septimius' fame hereafter?  By what name
     This deed be called, if Brutus wrought a crime?

     Now came the end, the latest hour of all:
710  Rapt to the boat was Magnus, of himself
     No longer master, and the miscreant crew
     Unsheathed their swords; which when the chieftain saw
     He swathed his visage, for he scorned unveiled
     To yield his life to fortune; closed his eyes
     And held his breath within him, lest some word,
     Or sob escaped, might mar the deathless fame
     His deeds had won.  And when within his side
     Achillas plunged his blade, nor sound nor cry
     He gave, but calm consented to the blow
720  And proved himself in dying; in his breast
     These thoughts revolving: "In the years to come
     Men shall make mention of our Roman toils,
     Gaze on this boat, ponder the Pharian faith;
     And think upon thy fame and all the years
     While fortune smiled: but for the ills of life
     How thou could'st bear them, this men shall not know
     Save by thy death.  Then weigh thou not the shame
     That waits on thine undoing.  Whose strikes,
     The blow is Caesar's.  Men may tear this frame
730  And cast it mangled to the winds of heaven;
     Yet have I prospered, nor can all the gods
     Call back my triumphs.  Life may bring defeat,
     But death no misery.  If my spouse and son
     Behold me murdered, silently the more
     I suffer: admiration at my death
     Shall prove their love."  Thus did Pompeius die,
     Guarding his thoughts.

                              But now Cornelia filled
     The air with lamentations at the sight;
     "O, husband, whom my wicked self hath slain!
740  That lonely isle apart thy bane hath been
     And stayed thy coming.  Caesar to the Nile
     Has won before us; for what other hand
     May do such work?  But whosoe'er thou art
     Sent from the gods with power, for Caesar's ire,
     Or thine own sake, to slay, thou dost not know
     Where lies the heart of Magnus.  Haste and do!
     Such were his prayer -- no other punishment
     Befits the conquered.  Yet let him ere his end
     See mine, Cornelia's.  On me the blame
750  Of all these wars, who sole of Roman wives
     Followed my spouse afield nor feared the fates;
     And in disaster, when the kings refused,
     Received and cherished him.  Did I deserve
     Thus to be left of thee, and didst thou seek
     To spare me?  And when rushing on thine end
     Was I to live?  Without the monarch's help
     Death shall be mine, either by headlong leap
     Beneath the waters; or some sailor's hand
     Shall bind around this neck the fatal cord;
760  Or else some comrade, worthy of his chief,
     Drive to my heart his blade for Magnus' sake,
     And claim the service done to Ceasar's arms.
     What!  does your cruelty withhold my fate?
     Ah!  still he lives, nor is it mine as yet
     To win this freedom; they forbid me death,
     Kept for the victor's triumph."  Thus she spake,
     While friendly hands upheld her fainting form;
     And sped the trembling vessel from the shore.

     Men say that Magnus, when the deadly blows
770  Fell thick upon him, lost nor form divine,
     Nor venerated mien; and as they gazed
     Upon his lacerated head they marked
     Still on his features anger with the gods.
     Nor death could change his visage -- for in act
     Of striking, fierce Septimius' murderous hand
     (Thus making worse his crime) severed the folds
     That swathed the face, and seized the noble head
     And drooping neck ere yet was fled the life:
     Then placed upon the bench; and with his blade
780  Slow at its hideous task, and blows unskilled
     Hacked through the flesh and brake the knotted bone:
     For yet man had not learned by swoop of sword
     Deftly to lop the neck.  Achillas claimed
     The gory head dissevered.  What!  shalt thou
     A Roman soldier, while thy blade yet reeks
     From Magnus' slaughter, play the second part
     To this base varlet of the Pharian king?
     Nor bear thyself the bleeding trophy home?
     Then, that the impious boy (ah!  shameful fate)
790  Might know the features of the hero slain,
     Seized by the locks, the dread of kings, which waved
     Upon his stately front, on Pharian pike
     The head was lifted; while almost the life
     Gave to the tongue its accents, and the eyes
     Were yet scarce glazed: that head at whose command
     Was peace or war, that tongue whose eloquent tones
     Would move assemblies, and that noble brow
     On which were showered the rewards of Rome.
     Nor to the tyrant did the sight suffice
800  To prove the murder done.  The perishing flesh,
     The tissues, and the brain he bids remove
     By art nefarious: the shrivelled skin
     Draws tight upon the bone; and poisonous juice
     Gives to the face its lineaments in death.

     Last of thy race, thou base degenerate boy,
     About to perish (20) soon, and yield the throne
     To thine incestuous sister; while the Prince
     From Macedon here in consecrated vault
     Now rests, and ashes of the kings are closed
810  In mighty pyramids, and lofty tombs
     Of thine unworthy fathers mark the graves;
     Shall Magnus' body hither and thither borne
     Be battered, headless, by the ocean wave?
     Too much it troubled thee to guard the corse
     Unmutilated, for his kinsman's eye
     To witness!  Such the faith which Fortune kept
     With prosperous Pompeius to the end.
     'Twas not for him in evil days some ray
     Of light to hope for.  Shattered from the height
820  Of power in one short moment to his death!
     Years of unbroken victories balanced down
     By one day's carnage!  In his happy time
     Heaven did not harass him, nor did she spare
     In misery.  Long Fortune held the hand
     That dashed him down.  Now beaten by the sands,
     Torn upon rocks, the sport of ocean's waves
     Poured through its wounds, his headless carcase lies,
     Save by the lacerated trunk unknown.

     Yet ere the victor touched the Pharian sands
830  Some scanty rites to Magnus Fortune gave,
     Lest he should want all burial.  Pale with fear
     Came Cordus, hasting from his hiding place;
     Quaestor, he joined Pompeius on thy shore,
     Idalian Cyprus, bringing in his train
     A cloud of evils.  Through the darkening shades
     Love for the dead compelled his trembling steps,
     Hard by the marin of the deep to search
     And drag to land his master.  Through the clouds
     The moon shone sadly, and her rays were dim;
840  But by its hue upon the hoary main
     He knew the body.  In a fast embrace
     He holds it, wrestling with the greedy sea,
     And deftly watching for a refluent wave
     Gains help to bring his burden to the land.
     Then clinging to the loved remains, the wounds
     Washed with his tears, thus to the gods he speaks,
     And misty stars obscure: "Here, Fortune, lies
     Pompeius, thine: no costly incense rare
     Or pomp of funeral he dares to ask;
850  Nor that the smoke rise heavenward from his pyre
     With eastern odours rich; nor that the necks
     Of pious Romans bear him to the tomb,
     Their parent; while the forums shall resound
     With dirges; nor that triumphs won of yore
     Be borne before him; nor for sorrowing hosts
     To cast their weapons forth.  Some little shell
     He begs as for the meanest, laid in which
     His mutilated corse may reach the flame.
     Grudge not his misery the pile of wood
860  Lit by this menial hand.  Is't not enough
     That his Cornelia with dishevelled hair
     Weeps not beside him at his obsequies,
     Nor with a last embrace shall place the torch
     Beneath her husband dead, but on the deep
     Hard by still wanders?"

                              Burning from afar
     He sees the pyre of some ignoble youth
     Deserted of his own, with none to guard:
     And quickly drawing from beneath the limbs
     Some glowing logs, "Whoe'er thou art," he said
870  "Neglected shade, uncared for, dear to none,
     Yet happier than Pompeius in thy death,
     Pardon I ask that this my stranger hand
     Should violate thy tomb.  Yet if to shades
     Be sense or memory, gladly shalt thou yield
     This from thy pyre to Magnus.  'Twere thy shame,
     Blessed with due burial, if his remains
     Were homeless."  Speaking thus, the wood aflame
     Back to the headless trunk at speed he bore,
     Which hanging on the margin of the deep,
880  Almost the sea had won.  In sandy trench
     The gathered fragments of a broken boat,
     Trembling, he placed around the noble limbs.
     No pile above the corpse nor under lay,
     Nor was the fire beneath.  Then as he crouched
     Beside the blaze, "O, greatest chief," he cried,
     Majestic champion of Hesperia's name,
     If to be tossed unburied on the deep
     Rather than these poor rites thy shade prefer,
     From these mine offices thy mighty soul
890  Withdraw, Pompeius.  Injuries dealt by fate
     Command this duty, lest some bird or beast
     Or ocean monster, or fierce Caesar's wrath
     Should venture aught upon thee.  Take the fire;
     All that thou canst; by Roman hand at least
     Enkindled.  And should Fortune grant return
     To loved Hesperia's land, not here shall rest
     Thy sacred ashes; but within an urn
     Cornelia, from this humble hand received,
     Shall place them.  Here upon a meagre stone
900  We draw the characters to mark thy tomb.
     These letters reading may some kindly friend
     Bring back thine head, dissevered, and may grant
     Full funeral honours to thine earthly frame."

     Then did he cherish the enfeebled fire
     Till Magnus' body mingled with its flames.
     But now the harbinger of coming dawn
     Had paled the constellations: he in fear
     Seeks for his hiding place.  Whom dost thou dread,
     Madman, what punishment for such a crime,
910  For which thy fame by rumour trumpet-tongued
     Has been sent down to ages?  Praise is thine
     For this thy work, at impious Caesar's hands;
     Sure of a pardon, go; confess thy task,
     And beg the head dissevered.  But his work
     Was still unfinished, and with pious hand
     (Fearing some foe) he seizes on the bones
     Now half consumed, and sinews; and the wave
     Pours in upon them, and in shallow trench
     Commits them to the earth; and lest some breeze
920  Might bear away the ashes, or by chance
     Some sailor's anchor might disturb the tomb,
     A stone he places, and with stick half burned
     Traces the sacred name: HERE MAGNUS LIES.

     And art thou, Fortune, pleased that such a spot
     Should be his tomb which even Caesar's self
     Had chosen, rather than permit his corse
     To rest unburied?  Why, with thoughtless hand
     Confine his shade within the narrow bounds
     Of this poor sepulchre?  Where the furthest sand
930  Hangs on the margin of the baffled deep
     Cabined he lies; yet where the Roman name
     Is known, and Empire, such in truth shall be
     The boundless measure of his resting-place.
     Blot out this stone, this proof against the gods!
     Oeta finds room for Hercules alone,
     And Nysa's mountain for the Bromian god; (21)
     Not all the lands of Egypt should suffice
     For Magnus dead: and shall one Pharian stone
     Mark his remains?  Yet should no turf disclose
940  His title, peoples of the earth would fear
     To spurn his ashes, and the sands of Nile
     No foot would tread.  But if the stone deserves
     So great a name, then add his mighty deeds:
     Write Lepidus conquered and the Alpine war,
     And fierce Sertorius by his aiding arm
     O'erthrown; the chariots which as knight he drove; (22)
     Cilician pirates driven from the main,
     And Commerce safe to nations; Eastern kings
     Defeated and the barbarous Northern tribes;
950  Write that from arms he ever sought the robe;
     Write that content upon the Capitol
     Thrice only triumphed he, nor asked his due.
     What mausoleum were for such a chief
     A fitting monument?  This paltry stone
     Records no syllable of the lengthy tale
     Of honours: and the name which men have read
     Upon the sacred temples of the gods,
     And lofty arches built of hostile spoils,
     On desolate sands here marks his lowly grave
960  With characters uncouth, such as the glance
     Of passing traveller or Roman guest
     Might pass unnoticed.

                              Thou Egyptian land
     By destiny foredoomed to bear a part
     In civil warfare, not unreasoning sang
     High Cumae's prophetess, when she forbad (23)
     The stream Pelusian to the Roman arms,
     And all the banks which in the summer-tide
     Are covered by his flood.  What grievous fate
     Shall I call down upon thee?  May the Nile
970  Turn back his water to his source, thy fields
     Want for the winter rain, and all the land
     Crumble to desert wastes!  We in our fanes
     Have known thine Isis and thy hideous gods,
     Half hounds, half human, and the drum that bids
     To sorrow, and Osiris, whom thy dirge (24)
     Proclaims for man.  Thou, Egypt, in thy sand
     Our dead containest.  Nor, though her temples now
     Serve a proud master, yet has Rome required
     Pompeius' ashes: in a foreign land
980  Still lies her chief.  But though men feared at first
     The victor's vengeance, now at length receive
     Thy Magnus' bones, if still the restless wave
     Hath not prevailed upon that hated shore.
     Shall men have fear of tombs and dread to move
     The dust of those who should be with the gods?
     O, may my country place the crime on me,
     If crime it be, to violate such a tomb
     Of such a hero, and to bear his dust
     Home to Ausonia.  Happy, happy he
990  Who bears such holy office in his trust! (25)
     Haply when famine rages in the land
     Or burning southern winds, or fires abound
     And earthquake shocks, and Rome shall pray an end
     From angry heaven -- by the gods' command,
     In council given, shalt thou be transferred
     To thine own city, and the priest shall bear
     Thy sacred ashes to their last abode.

     Who now may seek beneath the raging Crab
     Or hot Syene's waste, or Thebes athirst
1000 Under the rainy Pleiades, to gaze
     On Nile's broad stream; or whose may exchange
     On the Red Sea or in Arabian ports
     Some Eastern merchandise, shall turn in awe
     To view the venerable stone that marks
     Thy grave, Pompeius; and shall worship more
     Thy dust commingled with the arid sand,
     Thy shade though exiled, than the fane upreared (26)
     On Casius' mount to Jove!  In temples shrined
     And gold, thy memory were viler deemed:
1010 Fortune lies with thee in thy lowly tomb
     And makes thee rival of Olympus' king.
     More awful is that stone by Libyan seas
     Lashed, than are Conquerors' altars.  There in earth
     A deity rests to whom all men shall bow
     More than to gods Tarpeian: and his name
     Shall shine the brighter in the days to come
     For that no marble tomb about him stands
     Nor lofty monument.  That little dust
     Time shall soon scatter and the tomb shall fall
1020 And all the proofs shall perish of his death.
     And happier days shall come when men shall gaze
     Upon the stone, nor yet believe the tale:
     And Egypt's fable, that she holds the grave
     Of great Pompeius, be believed no more
     Than Crete's which boasts the sepulchre of Jove. (27)

(1)  Comp. Book VI., line 407.
(2)  Comp. Book III., line 256.
(3)  Canopus is a star in Argo, invisible in Italy. (Haskins.)
(4)  Sextus.
(5)  Tetrarch of Galatia.  He was always friendly to Rome, and in
     the civil war sided with Pompeius.  He was at Pharsalia.
(6)  A Scythian people.
(7)  Pompeius seems to have induced the Roman public to believe
     that he had led his armies to such extreme distances, but he
     never in fact did so. -- Mommsen, vol. iv. p. 147.
(8)  Juba was of supposed collateral descent from Hannibal. 
     (Haskins, quoting "The Scholiast.")
(9)  Confusing the Red Sea with the Persian Gulf.
(10) Balkh of modern times.  Bactria was one of the kingdoms
     established by the successors of Alexander the Great.  It
     was, however, subdued by the Parthians about the middle of
     the third century B.C.
(11) Dion could not believe it possible that Pompeius ever
     contemplated taking refuge in Parthia, but Plutarch states
     it as a fact; and says that it was Theophanes of Lesbos who
     dissuaded him from doing so. ("Pompeius", 76).  Mommsen
     (vol. iv., pp. 421-423) discusses the subject, and says that
     from Parthia only could Pompeius have attempted to seek
     support, and that such an attempt, putting the objections to
     it aside, would probably have failed.  Lucan's sympathies
     were probably with Lentulus.
(12) Probably Lucius Lentulus Crus, who had been Consul, for B.C.
     49, along with Caius Marcellus. (See Book V., 9.)  He was
     murdered in Egypt by Ptolemy's ministers.
(13) That is, be as easily defended.
(14) Thus rendered by Sir Thomas May, of the Long Parliament:
          "Men used to sceptres are ashamed of nought:
          The mildest governement a kingdome finds
          Under new kings."
(15) That is, he reached the most eastern mouth of the Nile
     instead of the western.
(16) At Memphis was the well in which the rise and fall of the
     water acted as a Nilometer (Mr. Haskins's note).
(17) Comp. Herodotus, Book iii. 27.  Apis was a god who appeared
     at intervals in the shape of a calf with a white mark on his
     brow.  His appearance was the occasion of general rejoicing.
     Cambyses slew the Apis which came in his time, and for this
     cause became mad, as the Egyptians said.
(18) That is, by Achoreus, who had just spoken.
(19) Compare Ben Jonson's "Sejanus", Act ii., Scene 2: --
          The prince who shames a tyrant's name to bear
          Shall never dare do anything, but fear;
          All the command of sceptres quite doth perish
          If it begin religious thoughts to cherish;
          Whole empires fall, swayed by these nice respects,
          It is the licence of dark deeds protects
          E'en states most hated, when no laws resist
          The sword, but that it acteth what it list."
(20) He was drowned in attempting to escape in the battle on the
     Nile in the following autumn.
(21) Dionysus.  But this god, though brought up by the nymphs of
     Mount Nysa, was not supposed to have been buried there.
(22) See Book VII., line 20.
(23) This warning of the Sibyl is also alluded to by Cicero in a
     letter to P. Lentulus, Proconsul of Cilicia. (Mr. Haskins'
     note.  See also Mommsen, vol. iv., p. 305.)  It seems to
     have been discovered in the Sibylline books at the time when
     it was desired to prevent Pompeius from interfering in the
     affairs of Egypt, in B.C. 57.
(24) That is, by their weeping for Iris departure they treated
     him as a mortal and not as a god.  Osiris was the soul of
     Apis (see on line 537), and when that animal grew old and
     unfit for the residence of Osiris the latter was thought to
     quit it.  Then began the weeping. which continued until a
     new Apis appeared, selected, of course, by Osiris for his
     dwelling-place.  Then they called out "We have found him,
     let us rejoice."  For a discussion on the Egyptian
     conception of Osiris, and Iris place in the theogony of that
     nation, see Hegel's "Lectures on the Philosophy of History":
     Chapter on Egypt.
(25) It may be noted that the Emperor Hadrian raised a monument
     on the spot to the memory of Pompeius some sixty years after
     this was written (Durny's 'History of Rome,' iii., 319).
     Plutarch states that Cornelia had the remains taken to Rome
     and interred in a mausoleum.  Lucan, it may be supposed,
     knew nothing of this.
(26) There was a temple to Jupiter on "Mount Casius old".
(27) The legend that Jove was buried in Crete is also mentioned
     by Cicero: "De Natura Deorum", iii., 21.