Nought, Rome, shall tear thee from me, till I hold Thy form in death embraced; and Freedom's name, Shade though it be, I'll follow to the grave. Yea! let the cruel gods exact in full Rome's expiation: of no drop of blood The war be robbed. I would that, to the gods Of heaven and hell devoted, this my life Might satisfy their vengeance. Decius fell, Crushed by the hostile ranks. When Cato falls Let Rhine's fierce barbarous hordes and both the hosts Thrust through my frame their darts! May I alone Receive in death the wounds of all the war! Thus may the people be redeemed, and thus Rome for her guilt pay the atonement due. Why should men die who wish to bear the yoke And shrink not from the tyranny to come? Strike me, and me alone, of laws and rights In vain the guardian: this vicarious life Shall give Hesperia peace and end her toils. Who then will reign shall find no need for war. You ask, `Why follow Magnus? If he wins He too will claim the Empire of the world.' Then let him, conquering with my service, learn Not for himself to conquer." Thus he spoke And stirred the blood that ran in Brutus' veins Moving the youth to action in the war.
How Cato looked when he and Marcia were re-united:
Sad and stern On Cato's lineaments the marks of grief Were still unsoftened, and the hoary hair Hung o'er his reverend visage; for since first Men flew to arms, his locks were left unkempt To stream upon his brow, and on his chin His beard untended grew. 'Twas his alone Who hated not, nor loved, for all mankind To mourn alike. Nor did their former couch Again receive them, for his lofty soul E'en lawful love resisted. 'Twas his rule Inflexible, to keep the middle path Marked out and bounded; to observe the laws Of natural right; and for his country's sake To risk his life, his all, as not for self Brought into being, but for all the world: Such was his creed. To him a sumptuous feast Was hunger conquered, and the lowly hut, Which scarce kept out the winter, was a home Equal to palaces: a robe of price Such hairy garments as were worn of old: The end of marriage, offspring. To the State Father alike and husband, right and law He ever followed with unswerving step: No thought of selfish pleasure turned the scale In Cato's acts, or swayed his upright soul.In Book IX, Cato is leading the remnant of Pompey's army across the burning sands of Libya. They reach the oracle of Ammon (here rendered as Hammen, Hammon), and his troops urge him to consult in hopes of learning from Jupiter what the future veiled:
But Cato, full Of godlike thoughts borne in his quiet breast, This answer uttered, worthy of the shrines: "What, Labienus, dost thou bid me ask? Whether in arms and freedom I should wish To perish, rather than endure a king? Is longest life worth aught? And doth its term Make difference? Can violence to the good Do injury? Do Fortune's threats avail Outweighed by virtue? Doth it not suffice To aim at deeds of bravery? Can fame Grow by achievement? Nay! No Hammen's voice Shall teach us this more surely than we know. Bound are we to the gods; no voice we need; They live in all our acts, although the shrine Be silent: at our birth and once for all What may be known the author of our being Revealed; nor Chose these thirsty sands to chaunt To few his truth, whelmed in the dusty waste. God has his dwelling in all things that be, In earth and air and sea and starry vault, In virtuous deeds; in all that thou can'st see, In all thy thoughts contained. Why further, then, Seek we our deities? Let those who doubt And halting, tremble for their coming fates, Go ask the oracles. No mystic words, Make sure my heart, but surely-coming Death. Coward alike and brave, we all must die. Thus hath Jove spoken: seek to know no more."Thus Cato spake, and faithful to his creed He parted from the temple of the god And left the oracle of Hammon dumb.
No comments:
Post a Comment