Oh! could we believe that Futurity's doom
Were the dream of the fool, or the tale of the knaveHow sweet were the refuge from thought in the tomb ! How blest the repose of despair in the grave!
On a ruby-visaged friend, rather partial to his tumbler.
WHOEVER, my friend, sees thy nose clad in scarlet, Like the lady our clergy call Babylon's harlot, Learns more than from all the philosophers chatter, How visibly spirit may act upon matter.
TRANSLATION FROM LUCAN'S PHARSALIA.
Cato and Labienus, having collected the remains of the Roman republicans after the battle of Pharsalia, arrive in Africa, to continue the war against Cæsar, and march, for that purpose, across the burning deserts of Lybia called the Syrtes, to join their ally Juba, king of Mauritania. On their way, they reach the celebrated temple and oracle of Jupiter Ammon, when Labienus asks Cato to consult the god on the event of the civil war? This occasions Cato's lofty reply, deservedly pronounced by Blair to be the "finest specimen of the moral sublime in all antiquity." Then follows an equally appropriate and noble eulogium of Cato by the poet.
Now towards the shrine the wearied Romans came,
Sacred to Jove, here known by Ammon's name.
Far from all other fanes the structure stands,
Amid the dreary Garamantian sands:
Not, as in Rome, the sire of gods is seen,
With human form and man's majestic mein ;
No brandished hand the forky thunder rears,
But a ram's head and wreathed horns he wears.
Though Ethiopia's tribes his godhead own,
Though rich Arabia bows to him alone,
And to the farthest Ind' no other Jove is known,
Ventum erat ad templum, Libycis quod gentibus unum
Inculti Garamantes habent: stat corniger illic
Iupiter, ut memorant, sed non aut fulmina vibrans,
Aut similis nostro, sed tortis cornibus, Ammon.
Non illic Libycæ posuerunt ditia gentes
Templa: nec Eois splendent donoria gemmis.
Quamvis Æthiopum populis, Arabumque beatis
Gentibus, atque Indis unus sit Iupiter Ammon,
Here ancient poverty so strictly reigns-
No gaudy pomp the soul's pure worship stains ;
No costly spoil from guilty greatness shines;
No useless gold, nor gems from Asian mines;
And Heaven, that simple virtue still befriends,
From Roman wealth the sacred shrine defends.
From Eastern lands, before the lofty gate,
A crowd, to learn the god's decisions, wait;
Who, when the Roman leader1 they survey,
Yield, with respect, before the hero's way.
Here Cato's friends, with anxious hope inspired,
On every side the virtuous chief required—
Since to temple so renowned they came,
To learn if heavenly truth or empty fame,
Had o'er the world diffused its wondrous name?
But Labienus, far above the rest,
With eager warmth unites in the request,
That Cato's self should hear their doom revealed,
As yet within the womb of time concealed.
Pauper adhuc Deus est, nullis violata per ævum
Divitiis delubra tenens: morumque priorum
Numen Romano templum defendit ab auro.
Stabant ante fores populi, quos miserat Eos,
Cornigerique Iovis monitu nova fata petebant:
Sed Latio cessere duci; comitesque Catonem
Orant, exploret Libycum memorata per orbem
Numina, de fama tam longi iudicet ævi.
Maximus hortator scrutandi voce Deorum
Eventus Labienus erat:
"Chance and our lucky rout," the warrior said, "To Ammon's fane our wandering host has led. What like its awful counsel can instruct?
What o'er the Syrts' our burning march conduct?
What the dire war's uncertain turns can tell?
What can unfold its dark result so well?
And whose-if not to Cato's hallowed prayer,
Will heavenly powers their secret thoughts declare
God in thy heart, illustrious sage, resides,
In every dictate of thy mind presides;
And spotless virtue, from thy earliest years,
In every action of thy life appears.
Then, since the occasion seems prepared for thee,
Inquire the will of the Divinity;
Inquire usurping Caesar's certain doom,
And learn the final destiny of Rome;
Learn, if the people shall their rights regain,
And liberty and ancient justice reign;
Or if, to free the world, we vainly strive,
And every field Pharsalia must revive?
Et fortuna viæ, tam magni numinis ora,
Consiliumque Dei: tanto duce possumus uti
Per Syrtes, bellique datos cognoscere casus.
Nam cui crediderim Superos arcana daturos
Dicturosque magis, quam sancto vera Catoni?
Certe vita tibi semper directa supernas
Ad leges, sequirisque Deum: datur ecce loquendi
Cum Iove libertas: inquire in fata nefandi
Cæsaris, et patriæ venturos excute mores :
Iure suo populis uti legumque licebit,
An bellum civile perit :
And, while the God complies with thy request,
Since warmest love of Virtue fires thy breast,
Demand, how erring man may know her laws,
And follow Truth and Honour's sacred cause?"
Full of th' inspiring Deity, enshrined
In the pure temple of his lofty mind,
Cato this superstitious counsel spurned,
And to the chief sublimely thus returned :
"What, Labienus, wouldst thou have me seek,
Whether I choose a tyrant's yoke to break?
Whether I choose to live with infamy,
Or die with glory, struggling to be free?
If 'tis beneath the noble spirit's care,
For mere old age a worthless life to spare;
If, though the arm of impious power assail,
That arm against the good can neʼer avail;
If fortune's threatening malice ne'er can force
Triumphant virtue from her sovereign course;
If, though we view our hopes by fate o'erthrown,
We still should follow-what is right alone;
Voce reple: duræ saltem virtutis amator
Quære quid est virtus, et posce exemplar honesti ?
Ille Deo plenus, tacita quem mente gerebat,
Effudit dignas adytis e pectore voces.
Quid quæri Labiene iubes? an liber in armis
Occubuisse velim potius, quam regna videre?
An sit vita nihil, sed longam differat ætas ?
An noceat vis ulla bono? Fortunaque perdat
Opposita virtute minas ? laudandaque velle
Sit satis,
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