The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter/Chapter 123
CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.
By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, CæsarCommanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway. The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinderAt first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness;But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, boundBy ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers,Then, melted the snows! And soon torrents newborn, from the heights ofThe mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandmentGrow rigid, and, turn into ice, in their headlong rush downwards!Now, that which rushed madly a moment before, must be hacked through!But now, it was treacherous, baffling their steps and their footingDeceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion.And see! Now the clouds, by an icy gale smitten, their burdenDischarge! Lo! the gusts of the whirlwind swirl fiercely about them;The sky in convulsions, with swollen hail buffets them sorely. Already the clouds themselves rupture and smother their weapons,An avalanche icy roars down like a billow of ocean;Earth lay overwhelmed by the drifts of the snow and the planetsOf heaven are blotted from sight; overwhelmed are the riversThat cling to their banks, but unconquered is Cæsar! His javelinHe leans on and scrunches with firm step a passage the bristlingGrim ice fields across! As, spurred on by the lust of adventureAmphitryon’s offspring came striding the Caucasus slopes down;Or Jupiter’s menacing mien as, from lofty OlympusHe leaped, the doomed giants to crush and to scatter their weapons.While Cæsar in anger the swelling peaks treads down, winged rumorIn terror flies forth and on beating wings seeks the high summitOf Palatine tall: every image she rocks with her messageAnnouncing this thunderbolt Roman! Already, the ocean Is tossing his fleets! Now his cavalry, reeking with GermanGore, pours from the Alps! Slaughter, bloodshed, and weapons—The red panorama of war is unrolled to their vision!By terror their hearts are divided: two counsels perplex them!One chooses by land to seek flight: to another, the waterAppeals, and the sea than his own land is safer! AnotherWill stand to his arms and advantage extort from Fate’s mandate.The depth of their fear marks the length of their flight! In confusionThe people itself—shameful spectacle—driven by terrorIs led to abandon the city. Rome glories in fleeing!The Quirites from battle blench! Cowed by the breath of a rumorRelinquished their firesides to mourning! One citizen, palsiedWith terror, his children embraces: another, his penatesConceals in his bosom; then, weeping, takes leave of his threshold And slaughters the distant invader—with curses! Their spousesSome clasp to their sorrow-wracked bosoms! Youths carry their fathersBowed down with old age, uninured to the bearing of burdens.They seize what they dread to lose most. Inexperience drags allIts chattels to camp and to battle: as, when powerful AusterPiles up the churned waters and tumbles them: never a yard-armNor rudder to answer the hand, here, one fashions a life-raftOf pine planks, another steers into some bay on a lee shore,Another will crack on and run from the gale and to FortuneTrust all! But why sorrow for trifles? The consuls, with PompeyThe Great—he, the terror of Pontus, of savage HydaspesExplorer, the reef that wrecked pirates, caused Jove to turn livid,When thrice was a triumph decreed him, whom Pontus’ vexed water And pacified billows of Bosphorus worshipped! Disgraceful theirFlight! Title and glory forsaking! Now Fortune capriciousLooks down on the back of great Pompey retreating in terror!