The Satyricon Part 16

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEENTH.

"The conquering Roman now held the whole world in his sway, The ocean, the land; where the sun shone by day or the moon Gleamed by night: but unsated was he. And the seas Were roiled by the weight of his deep-laden keels; if a bay Lay hidden beyond, or a land which might yield yellow gold 'Twas held as a foe. While the struggle for treasure went on The fates were preparing the horrors and scourges of war.

Amus.e.m.e.nts enjoyed by the vulgar no longer can charm Nor pleasures worn threadbare by use of the plebeian mob.

The bronzes of Corinth are praised by the soldier at sea; And glittering gems sought in earth, vie with purple of Tyre; Numidia curses her here, there, the exquisite silks Of China; Arabia's people have stripped their own fields.

Behold other woes and calamities outraging peace!

Wild beasts, in the forest are hunted, for gold; and remote African hammon is covered by beaters, for fear Some beast that slays men with his teeth shall escape, for by that His value to men is enhanced! The vessels receive Strange ravening monsters; the tiger behind gilded bars And pacing his cage is transported to Rome, that his jaws May drip with the life blood of men to the plaudits of men Oh shame! To point out our impending destruction; the crime Of Persia enacted anew; in his p.u.b.erty's bloom The man child is kidnapped; surrenders his powers to the knife, Is forced to the calling of Venus; delayed and hedged round The hurrying pa.s.sage of life's finest years is held back And Nature seeks Nature but finds herself not. Everywhere These frail-limbed and mincing effeminates, flowing of locks, Bedecked with an infinite number of garments of silk Whose names ever change, the wantons and lechers to snare, Are eagerly welcomed! From African soil now behold The citron-wood tables; their well-burnished surface reflects Our Tyrian purples and slaves by the horde, and whose spots Resemble the gold that is cheaper than they and ensnare Extravagance. Sterile and ign.o.bly prized is the wood But round it is gathered a company sodden with wine; And soldiers of fortune whose weapons have rusted, devour The spoils of the world. Art caters to appet.i.te. Wra.s.se From Sicily brought to their table, alive in his own Sea water.

The oysters from Lucrine's sh.o.r.e torn, at the feast Are served to make famous the host; and the appet.i.te, cloyed, To tempt by extravagance. Phasis has now been despoiled Of birds, its littoral silent, no sound there is heard Save only the wind as it rustles among the last leaves.

Corruption no less vile is seen in the campus of Mars, Our quirites are bribed; and for plunder and promise of gain Their votes they will alter. The people is venal; corrupt The Senate; support has its price! And the freedom and worth Of age is decayed, scattered largesse now governs their power; Corrupted by gold, even dignity lies in the dust.

Cato defeated and hooted by mobs, but the victor Is sadder, ashamed to have taken the rods from a Cato: In this lay the shame of the nation and character's downfall, 'Twas not the defeat of a man! No! The power and the glory Of Rome were brought low; represented in him was the honor Of st.u.r.dy Republican Rome. So, abandoned and wretched, The city has purchased dishonor: has purchased herself!

Despoiled by herself, no avenger to wipe out the stigma Twin maelstroms of debt and of usury suck down the commons.

No home with clear t.i.tle, no citizen free from a mortgage, But as some slow wasting disease all unheralded fastens Its hold on the vitals, destroying the vigor of manhood, So, fear of the evils impending, impels them to madness.

Despair turns to violence, luxury's ravages needs must Repaired be by bloodshed, for indigence safely can venture.

Can art or sane reason rouse wallowing Rome from the offal And break the voluptuous slumber in which she is sunken?

Or must it be fury and war and the blood-l.u.s.t of daggers?"

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTIETH.

"Three chieftains did fortune bring forth, whom the fury of battles Destroyed; and interred, each one under a mountain of weapons; The Parthian has Cra.s.sus, Pompeius the Great by the waters Of Egypt lies. Julius, ungrateful Rome stained with his life blood.

And earth has divided their ashes, unable to suffer The weight of so many tombs. These are the wages of glory!

There lies between Naples and Great Puteoli, a chasm Deep cloven, and Cocytus churns there his current; the vapor In fury escapes from the gorge with that lethal spray laden.

No green in the aututun is there, no gra.s.s gladdens the meadow, The supple twigs never resound with the twittering singing Of birds in the Springtime. But chaos, volcanic black boulders Of pumice lie Happy within their drear setting of cypress.

Amidst these infernal surroundings the ruler of Hades Uplifted his head by the funeral flames silhouetted And sprinkled with white from the ashes of corpses; and challenged Winged Fortune in words such as these: 'Oh thou fickle controller Of things upon earth and in heaven, security's foeman, Oh Chance! Oh thou lover eternally faithful to change, and Possession's betrayer, dost own thyself crushed by the power Of Rome? Canst not raise up the tottering ma.s.s to its downfall Its strength the young manhood of Rome now despises, and staggers In bearing the booty heaped up by its efforts: behold how They lavish their spoils! Wealth run mad now brings down their destruction.

They build out of gold and their palaces reach to the heavens; The sea is expelled by their moles and their pastures are oceans; They war against Nature in changing the state of creation.

They threaten my kingdom! Earth yawns with their tunnels deep driven To furnish the stone for their madmen's foundations; already The mountains are hollowed and now but re-echoing caverns; While man quarries marble to serve his vainglorious purpose The spirits infernal confess that they hope to win Heaven!

Arise, then, O Chance, change thy countenance peaceful to warlike And harry the Romans, consign to my kingdom the fallen.

Ah, long is it now since my lips were with blood cooled and moistened, Nor has my Tisiphone bathed her blood-l.u.s.ting body Since Sulla's sword drank to repletion and earth's bristling harvest Grew ripe upon blood and thrust up to the light of the suns.h.i.+ne!'"

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIRST.

"He spake ... and attempted to clasp the right hand of Fortuna, But ruptured the crust of the earth, deeply cloven, asunder.

Then from her capricious heart Fortune made answer: 'O father Whom Cocytus' deepest abysses obey, if to forecast The future I may, without fear, thy pet.i.tion shall prosper; For no less consuming the anger that wars in this bosom, The flame no less poignant, that burns to my marrow All favors I gave to the bulwarks of Rome, now, I hate them. My Gifts I repent! The same G.o.d who built up their dominion Shall bring down destruction upon it. In burning their manhood My heart shall delight and its blood-l.u.s.t shall slake with their slaughter.

Now Philippi's field I can see strewn with dead of two battles And Thessaly's funeral pyres and Iberia mourning.

Already the clangor of arms thrills my ears, and rings loudly: Thou, Lybian Nile, I can see now thy barriers groaning And Actium's gulf and Apollo's darts quailing the warriors!

Then, open thy thirsty dominions and summon fresh spirits; For scarce will the ferryman's strength be sufficient to carry The souls of the dead in his skiff: 'tis a fleet that is needed!

Thou, Pallid Tisiphone, slake with wide ruin, thy thirsting And tear ghastly wounds: mangled earth sinks to h.e.l.l and the spirits.'"

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND.

"But scarce had she finished, when trembled the clouds; and a gleaming Bright flash of Jove's lightning transfixed them with flame and was gone.

The Lord of the Shades blanched with fear, at this bolt of his brother's, Sank back, and drew closely together the gorge in Earth's bosom.

By auspices straightway the slaughter of men and the evils Impending are shown by the G.o.ds. Here, the t.i.tan unsightly Blood red, veils his face with a twilight; on strife fratricidal Already he gazed, thou hadst thought! There, silvery Cynthia Obscuring her face at the full, denied light to the outrage.

The mountain crests riven by rock-slides roll thundering downward And wandering rivers, to rivulets shrunk, writhed no longer Familiar marges between. With the clangor of armor The heavens resound; from the stars wafts the thrill of a trumpet Sounding the call to arms. AEtna, now roused to eruption Unwonted, darts flashes of flame to the clouds. Flitting phantoms Appear midst the tombs and unburied bones, gibbering menace A comet, strange stars in its diadem, leads a procession And reddens the skies with its fire. Showers of blood fall from heaven These portents the Deity shortly fulfilled! For now Caesar Forsook vacillation and, spurred by the love of revenge, sheathed The Gallic sword; brandished the brand that proclaimed civil warfare.

There, high in the Alps, where the crags, by a Greek G.o.d once trodden, Slope down and permit of approach, is a spot ever sacred To Hercules' altar; the winter with frozen snow seals it And rears to the heavens a summit eternally h.o.a.ry, As though the sky there had slipped down: no warmth from the sunbeams, No breath from the Springtime can soften the pile's wintry rigor Nor slacken the frost chains that bind; and its menacing shoulders The weight of the world could sustain. With victorious legions These crests Caesar trod and selected a camp. Gazing downwards On Italy's plains rolling far, from the top of the mountain, He lifted both hands to the heavens, his voice rose in prayer: 'Omnipotent Jove, and thou, refuge of Saturn whose glory Was brightened by feats of my armies and crowned with my triumphs, Bear witness! Unwillingly summon I Mars to these armies, Unwillingly draw I the sword! But injustice compels me.

While enemy blood dyes the Rhine and the Alps are held firmly Repulsing a second a.s.sault of the Gauls on our city, She dubs me an outcast! And Victory makes me an exile!

To triumphs three score, and defeats of the Germans, my treason I trace! How can they fear my glory or see in my battles A menace? But hirelings, and vile, to whom my Rome is but a Stepmother! Methinks that no craven this sword arm shall hamper And take not a stroke in repost. On to victory, comrades, While anger seethes hot. With the sword we will seek a decision The doom lowering down is a peril to all, and the treason.

My grat.i.tude owe I to you, not alone have I conquered!

Since punishment waits by our trophies and victory merits Disgrace, then let Chance cast the lots. Raise the standard of battle; Again take your swords. Well I know that my cause is accomplished Amidst such armed warriors I know that I cannot be beaten.'

While yet the words echoed, from heaven the bird of Apollo Vouchsafed a good omen and beat with his pinions the ether.

From out of the left of a gloomy grove strange voices sounded And flame flashed thereafter! The sun gleamed with brighter refulgence Unwonted, his face in a halo of golden flame s.h.i.+ning."

CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THIRD.

"By omens emboldened, to follow, the battle-flags, Caesar Commanded; and boldly led on down the perilous pathway.

The footing, firm-fettered by frost chains and ice, did not hinder At first, but lay silent, the kindly cold masking its grimness; But, after the squadrons of cavalry shattered the clouds, bound By ice, and the trembling steeds crushed in the mail of the rivers, Then, melted the snows! And soon torrents newborn, from the heights of The mountains rush down: but these also, as if by commandment Grow 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 footing Deceiving; and men, horses, arms, fall in heaps, in confusion.