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The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Part 10

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Gito mockt his humour, and for every crack he gave, return'd the like, that one ill-scent might stifle another.

But, even here, Eumolpus returning to his old humour: "Young men,"

began he, "this poetry deceives many; for not only every one that is able to give a verse its numbers, and spin out his feble sence in a long train of words, has the vanity to think himself inspir'd; but pleaders at the bar, when they wou'd give themselves a loose from business, apply themselves to poetry, as an entertainment without trouble; believing it easier to compile a poem than maintain a controversie, adorn'd with a few florid sentences. But neither will a generous spirit affect the empty sound of words; nor can a mind, unless enricht with learning, be deliver'd of a birth of poetry; there must be the purity of language, no porterly expression, or meanness, as I may call it, of words is to be admitted; but a stile perfectly above the common, and with Horace,--

"'Scorn the unletter'd herd, And drive 'em from you.'

"Besides, you must be strictly diligent, that your expressions appear of a piece with the body of the discourse, and your colours so laid, that each may contribute to the beauty of the whole. Greece has given us a Homer and the Lyricks for example; Rome a Virgil and an Horace; the purity of whose language is so happily correct, others either never saw the path that leads to poetry, or seeing, were afraid to tread it. To describe the civil wars of Rome would be a master-piece, the unletter'd head that offers at it, will sink beneath the weight of so great a work; for to relate past actions, is not so much the business of a poet, as an historian; the boundless genius of a poet strikes through all mazes, introduces G.o.ds, and puts the invention on the rack for poetick ornaments; that it may rather seem a prophetick fury, than a strict relation, with witnesses of meer truth. As for example, this rapture, tho' I have not given it the last hand.



"Now Rome reign'd Empress o're the vanquished ball, As far as earth and seas, obey'd by all: Uneasie yet, with more desires she's curst, And boundless, as her empire, is her thirst.

In burden'd vessels now they travelled o're The furrow'd deep to seas unknown before: And any hidden part of land or sea, That gold afforded, was an enemy.

Thus fate the seeds of civil fury rais'd, When great in wealth no common pleasure pleas'd.

Delights more out of fashion by the town: Th' souldiers scarlet now from Spain must come; The purple of the sea contemn'd is grown.

India with silks, Africk with precious stone, Arabia with its spices. .h.i.ther come, And with their ruin raise the pride of Rome.

But other spoils, destructive to her peace, Rome's ruin bode, and future ills encrease: Through Libyan desarts are wild monsters chas'd.

And the remotest parts of Africk trac'd: Where the unwieldy elephant that's ta'en, For fatal value of his tooth is slain.

Uncommon tygers are imported here, And triumphant in the theatre; Where, while devouring jaws on men they try, The people clap to see their fellows die.

But oh! who can without a blush relate The horrid scene of their approaching fate?

When Persian customs, fashionable grown, Made nature start, and her best work disown, Male infants are divorc'd from all that can, By timely progress ripen into man.

Thus circling nature dampt, a while restrain Her hasty course, and a pause remains; Till working a return t'her wonted post, She seeks her self, and to her self is lost.

The herd of fops the frantick humour take, Each keeps a capon, loves its mincing gate, Its flowing hair, and striving all it can, In changing mode and dress, t' appear a man.

Behold the wilder luxury of Rome, From Africk furniture, slaves, tables come, And purple carpets made in Africk loom.

Thus their estates run out, while all around The sot-companions in their wine are drown'd; The souldier loads, neglected is his sword, With all his spoils the dearly n.o.ble board: Rome's appet.i.te grows witty, and what's caught In Sicily, to their boards are living brought: But stomachs gorg'd, (a dearer luxury) Must with expensive sauce new hunger buy.

The Phasian banks, the birds all eaten, gone, With their forsaken trees in silence moan, And have no musick but the winds alone.

In Mars's Field no less a frenzie reigns, Where brib'd a.s.semblies make a prey of gains.

Their servile votes obey the c.h.i.n.k of gold, A people and a senate to be sold!

The senate's self, which should our rights maintain, From their free spirits, stoop to sordid gain, The power of right by gold corrupted dies, And trampled majesty beneath it lies: Cato's pretence the giddy rout neglect, Yet did not him, but him they rais'd deject: Who, tho' he won, with conscious blushes stands, Asham'd o' th' Power he took from worthier hands.

O manners, ruin, and the people's shame!

He suffer'd not alone, the Roman name, Virtue and honour to their period came.

Thus wretched Rome does her own ruin share, At once the merchant, and at once the ware, All lands are mortgag'd, and all persons bound, And in the use the princ.i.p.al is drown'd.

Thus debt's a feaver, and like that disease, Bred in our bowels, by unfelt degrees Will through our thirsty vitals ev'ry member seize Wild tumults now to arms for succour call, (For what may dare and never fear a fall.) Wasted by riot, wealth's a putrid sore, That only wounds can its lost strength restore.

What rules of reason, or soft gentle ways, Rome from this lethargy of vice can raise?

Where such mild arts can no impression make, War, tumult, noise and fury must awake.

Fortune one age with three great chiefs supply'd, Who different ways, by the sword that rais'd 'em dy'd; Cra.s.sus's blood, Asia; Africk, Pompey's shed; In thankless Rome, the murder'd Caesar bled.

Thus as one soil alone too narrow were, Their glorious dust, and great remains to bear, O're all the earth their scatter'd ruin lyes; Such honours to the mighty dead arise.

'Twixt Naples and Puteoli there is, Deep in the gaping earth, a dark abys, Where runs the raging black Cocytus stream, That from its waters sends a sulphurous stream, Which spreads its fury round the blasted green, O're all the fatal compa.s.s of its breath, No verdant autumn crowns the fruitful earth; No blooming woods with vernal songs resound, Nothing but black confusion all around, There lonely rocks in dismal quiet mourn, Which aged cypress dreadfully adorn.

Here Pluto rais'd his head, and through a cloud Of fire and smoke, in this prophetick mood, To giddy fortune spoke,-- All ruling Power, You love all change, and quit it soon for more; You never like what too securely stands; Does Rome not tire your faint supporting hands?

How can you longer bear the sinking frame, The Roman youth now hate the Roman name.

See all around luxuriant trophies lye, And their encreasing wealth new ills supply.

Golden aspiring piles here heav'n invade, There on the sea encroaching bounds are made.

Where fields contriving as from waters sprung, Inverted nature's injur'd laws they wrong.

So deep the caverns in the earth some make, They threat my empire, and my regions shake; While to low quarries others sink for stone; And hollow rocks beneath their fury groan.

Proud with the hopes to see another day, M'infernal subjects 'gin to disobey: Fortune be kind, still I'le their fure dare, Turn all your smiles, and stir up Rome to war, And a new colony of souls prepare.

Our sooty lips no blood have taste, With thirst Tisiphone's dry throat does wast.

Since Sylla's sword let out the purple flood, And guilty earth grew fruitful from the blood.

The black grim G.o.d did thus to Fortune say, Reaching her hand, the yielding earth gave way The fickle G.o.ddess, thus returning, said, Father, by all beneath this earth obey'd, If dangerous truths may be with safety told, My thoughts with yours a just proportion hold: No less a rage this willing breast inspires, Nor am I prest with less inflam'd desires; I hate the blessings that to Rome I lent, And of my bounty, now abus'd, repent: Thus the proud height of Rome's aspiring wall, By the same dreadful G.o.d 'twas rais'd, shall fall.

Their blood I'll offer as a sacrifice, T' appease the ghost of their departed vice.

I already see Pharsalian armies slain, The funeral piles of Thessaly and Spain: Egypt and Libya's groans methinks I hear, The dismal sound of arms now strikes my ear, An Actian sea-fight, and retreating fear.

Make wide the entrance of your thirsty soil, New spirits must i' th' mighty harvest toil; Charon's too narrow boat can ne're convey, Scarce a whole fleet will waft the souls away; Pale furies be with the vast ruin crown'd, And fill'd with blood, remangle every wound.

The universal fabrick of the world, Rent and divided, to your empire's hurl'd.

She scarce had spoke; e'er from a cloud there flyes A blasting flame, that bursting shook the skyes; At Jove's avenging thunder, to his h.e.l.l, From the clos'd earth, affrighted Pluto fell.

When soon the angry G.o.ds their omens show, That bode destruction and approaching woe: Astonishment surpriz'd the darkned sun, As if the war already were begun; Approaching ills the conscious Cynthia knew, And blushing, from impiety withdrew.

With hideous noise the falling mountains cleave; And streams repulst their usual courses leave.

Ingaging armies in the clouds appear, And trumpets raising Mars himself to war.

Now aetna's flames with an usual roar Vomit huge bolts of thunder in the air, Amidst the tombs and bones without their urns, Portending spirits send up dismal groans: A comet's seen with stars unknown before, And Jove descending in a b.l.o.o.d.y show'r: The G.o.d these wonders did in short unfold, Caesar their ills no longer shou'd with-hold.

Impatient of revenge, quit Gallick jars, And draw his conquering sword for civil wars.

In cloudy Alps, where the divided rock To cunning Grecians did its nerves unlock, Altars devoted to Alcides smoke.

The temple with eternal ice is crown'd, Whose milky top so far in clouds is drown'd; You'd think its shoulders in the heavens bound Not the warm rays of a meridian sun, Or the hot southern winds can melt it down.

So fixt with ice and snows it did appear, That its aspiring top the globe might bear.

Here conquering Caesar leads his joyful bands, And on the proudest cliff consid'ring stands.

The distant plains of Italy surveys, And, hands and voice to heaven directed, says Almighty Jove and you, Saturnia, found, Safe by my arms, oft with my triumph's crown'd.

Witness these arms unwillingly I wear, Unwillingly I come to wage this war, Compell'd by injuries too great to bear.

Banisht my country, while I make the flood, That laves the Rhine, run purple all with blood.

While the Gauls, ripe our Rome to re-invade, I force to skulk behind their Alps afraid: By conquering my banishment's secur'd.

Are sixty triumphs not to be endur'd?

A German conquest reckon'd such a fault?

By whom is glory such a monster thought?

Or who the vile supporters of this war?

A foreign sp.a.w.n, a mobb in arms appear, At once Rome's scandal, and at once her care.

No slavish soul shall bind this arm with chains, And unreveng'd triumph it o're the plains.

Bold with success still to new conquests lead, Come, my companions, thus my cause I'le plead, The sword shall plead our cause, for to us all Does equal guilt, and equal danger, call: Oblig'd by you I conquer'd, not alone.

Since to be punisht is the victor's crown, Fortune invokt begin the offer'd war, My cause is pleaded when you bravely dare, With such an army, who success can fear.

Thus Caesar spoke: from the propitious sky Descending eagles, boding victory, Drive the slow winds before 'em as they fly.

From the left side of a dark wood proceed Unwonted crys, which dying, flames succeed.

The sun-beams with unusual brightness rise And spread new glories round the gilded skies.

New fir'd with omens of the promis'd day, Caesar o're untrod mountain leads the way; Where th' frozen earth o're-clad with ice and snows, At first not yielding to their horses blows, A dreadful quiet in dull stiffness shows.

But when their trembling hoofs had burst the chain, And soften'd milky clouds of hardned rain; So quick the melted snows to rivers run, That soon a deluge from the mountains sprung.

But thus you'd think 'twere done by fates decrees, For the flood stopt, and billows rising freeze, And yielding waves but now are rocks of ice.

The slippery pa.s.sage now their feet betray, When soon in miserable heaps o' th' way, Men, horse, arms, in wild confusion lay.

Now pregnant clouds, with whirling blasts are torn, And, bursting, are deliver'd of a storm: Large stones of hail the troubl'd heavens shoot, That by tempestuous winds are whirl'd about; So thick it pours, whole clouds of snow and hail, Like frozen billows, on their armour fall: The earth lay vanquished under mighty snow, An icy damp the vanquisht heavens know, And vanquisht waters now no longer flow.

Thus all but Caesar yield; on his huge lance The hero leaning, did secure advance.

Alcmena's son did less securely rush, From the proud height of rising Caucasus; Or Jove himself, when down the steep he prest Those sons of earth, that durst his heaven molest.

While raging Caesar scales th' aspiring height, Big with the news, fame takes before her flight; And from Mount Palatine approaching ills, To frighted Rome, thus dreadfully she tells: A numerous fleet is riding o'er the main, The melted Alps are hid with Caesar's train.

That reeking from a German conquest come, And with a like destruction threaten Rome.

Now arms, blood, death, and dismal scenes of war, Are to their eyes presented by their fear; With dreadful thoughts of coming war possest, A wilder tumult raigns in every breast.

This flys by land, and that the sea prefers, And thinks his native soil less safe appears, The souldier trusts the fortune of the wars.

Prest by their fate, thus as they fear they run.

'Midst these disorders, through th' abandon'd town: A moving sight, wild tumults here and there, Follow the blind impulses of their fear.

Vanquisht by rumour all, prepar'd for flight, Their much lamented habitations quit: Trembling, this takes his children in his arms, And that protects his guardian G.o.ds from harm.

Scar'd from their homes, unwillingly they go, And in their wishes stab the absent foe.

Some bear their wives, amidst ten thousand fears, In sad imbrace; and some their aged sires: The tender youth, unus'd to burdens, bear Only that with 'em for which most they fear: Some less discreet, strive to bear all away, And only for the foe prepare the prey.

So in a storm when no sea-arts avail To guide the ship with any certain sail; Some bind the shatter'd mast, with thoughts secure, Others are swimming t'ward the peaceful sh.o.r.e; While with full sails kind fortune these implore.

But why do we of such small fears complain, With both the consuls greater Pompey ran, That Asia aw'd, in dire Hydaspes grown The only rock, its pyrates split upon; Whose third triumph o're earth made Jove afraid, Proud with success he'd next his Heaven invade: To whom the ocean yielding honours gave, And rougher Bosphorus humbly still'd his wave.

Yet he, of empires and of men the shame, Quitting the honour of a ruler's name, Meanly at once abandon'd Rome and fame.

Now this to Heaven it self does fears impart, And the mild train of quiet G.o.ds depart; Frighted with wars they quit the impious world, And leave mankind in wild confusion hurl'd.

Fair Peace, as leader of the goodly train, Beating her snowy arms, did first complain; A wreath of olives bound her drooping head, And to h.e.l.l's dark insatiate realms she fled.

Justice and Faith on her attending went, And mournful Concord, with her garment rent.

On th' other side from h.e.l.l's wide gaping jaws, A train of dire inhabitants arose: Dreadful errings, fierce Bellona there, Fraud, and Megera arm'd with brands of fire, And th' gastly image of pale death appear: Disorder'd Rage from all her fetters freed, Proudly 'midst these lifts her distracted head, And her hackt face with b.l.o.o.d.y helmet hid.

On her left arm a target old and worn, Pierc'd with innumerable darts was born, And brands of fire supported in her right, The impious world with flames and ruin threat.

The G.o.ds descending, leave their still abode, And the stars wondring miss their usual load; For all the inhabitants of Heaven come, Choosing their sides, with factious fury down.

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The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Part 10 summary

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