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Caesar mused,

       "While from the rostrum I had power," he said,

       To call the populace to aid thy cause,

       By this my voice against the Senate's will

       Was thy command prolonged. But silenced now

       Are laws in war: we driven from our homes;

       Yet is our exile willing; for thine arms

       Shall make us citizens of Rome again.

       Strike; for no strength as yet the foe hath gained.

       Occasion calls, delay shall mar it soon:

       Like risk, like labour, thou hast known before,

       But never such reward. Could Gallia hold

       Thine armies ten long years ere victory came,

       That little nook of earth? One paltry fight

       Or twain, fought out by thy resistless hand,

       And Rome for thee shall have subdued the world:

       'Tis true no triumph now would bring thee home;

       No captive tribes would grace thy chariot wheels

       Winding in pomp around the ancient hill.

       Spite gnaws the factions; for thy conquests won

       Scarce shalt thou be unpunished. Yet 'tis fate

       Thou should'st subdue thy kinsman: share the world

       With him thou canst not; rule thou canst, alone."

       As when at Elis' festival a horse

       In stable pent gnaws at his prison bars

       Impatient, and should clamour from without

       Strike on his ear, bounds furious at restraint,

       So then was Caesar, eager for the fight,

       Stirred by the words of Curio. To the ranks

       He bids his soldiers; with majestic mien

       And hand commanding silence as they come.

       "Comrades," he cried, "victorious returned,

       Who by my side for ten long years have faced,

       'Mid Alpine winters and on Arctic shores,

       The thousand dangers of the battle-field —

       Is this our country's welcome, this her prize

       For death and wounds and Roman blood outpoured?

       Rome arms her choicest sons; the sturdy oaks

       Are felled to make a fleet; — what could she more

       If from the Alps fierce Hannibal were come

       With all his Punic host? By land and sea

       Caesar shall fly! Fly? Though in adverse war

       Our best had fallen, and the savage Gaul

       Were hard upon our track, we would not fly.

       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 (12)

       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 (13) blighted through the world

       And ghastly famine made to serve his ends?

       Who hath forgotten how Pompeius' bands

       Seized on the forum, and with glittering arms

       Made outraged justice tremble, while their swords

       Hemmed in the judgment-seat where Milo (14) stood?

       And now when worn and old and ripe for rest (15),

       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, e'er 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?

       What cottage homes their joys, what fields their fruit

       Shall to our veterans yield? Will Magnus say

       That pirates only till the fields alight?

       Unfurl your standards; victory gilds them yet,

       As through those glorious years. Deny our rights!

       He that denies them makes our quarrel just.

       Nay! use the strength that we have made our own.

       No booty seek we, nor imperial power.

       This would-be ruler of subservient Rome

       We force to quit his grasp; and Heaven shall smile

       On those who seek to drag the tyrant down."

      Thus Caesar spake; but doubtful murmurs ran

       Throughout the listening crowd, this way and that

       Their wishes urging them; the thoughts of home

       And household gods and kindred gave them pause:

       But fear of Caesar and the pride of war

       Their doubts resolved. Then Laelius, who wore

       The well-earned crown for Roman life preserved,

       The foremost Captain of the army, spake:

       "O greatest leader of the Roman name,

       If 'tis thy wish the very truth to hear

       'Tis mine to speak it; we complain of this,

       That gifted with such strength thou did'st refrain

       From using it. Had'st thou no trust in us?

       While the hot life-blood fills these glowing veins,

       While these strong arms avail to hurl the lance,

       Wilt thou make peace and bear the Senate's rule?

       Is civil conquest then so base and vile?

       Lead us through Scythian deserts, lead us where

       The inhospitable Syrtes line the shore

       Of Afric's burning sands, or where thou wilt:

       This hand, to leave a conquered

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