Pompey and Caesar

Both differed much. Pompey was struck in years,
And by long rest forgot to manage arms,
And being popular, sought by liberal gifts
To gain the light unstable commons' love,
And joyed to hear his theatre's applause:
He lived secure, boasting his former deeds,
And thought his name sufficient to uphold him:
Like to a tall oak in a fruitful field,
Bearing old spoils and conquerors' monuments,
Who though his root be weak and his own weight
Keep him within the ground, his arms all bare,
His body, not his boughs, send forth a shade;
Though every blast it nod and seem to fall,
When all the woods about stand bolt upright,
Yet he alone is held in reverence.
Caesar's renown for war was less; he restless,
Shaming to strive but where he did subdue;
When ire or hope provoked, heady and bold;
At all times charging home and making havoc;
Urging his fortune, trusting in the gods,
Destroying what withstood his proud desires,
And glad when blood and ruin made him way:
So thunder, which the wind tears from the clouds,
With crack of riven air and hideous sound
Filling the world, leaps out and throws forth fire,
Affrights poor fearful men and blasts their eyes
With overthwarting flames, and raging shoots
Alongst the air, and, not resisting it,
Falls and returns and shivers where it lights.
Such humours stirred them up: but this war's seed
Was even the same that wrecks all great dominions.
When Fortune made us lords of all, wealth flowed,
And then we grew licentious and rude;
The soldiers' prey and rapine brought in riot;
Men took delight in jewels, houses, plate,
And scorned old sparing diet, and ware robes
Too light for women; Poverty, who hatcht
Rome's greatest wits, was loathed, and all the world
Ransackt for gold, which breeds the world's decay;
And then large limits had their butting lands;
The ground, which Curius and Camillus tilled,
Was stretcht unto the fields of hinds unknown.
Again, this people could not brook calm peace;
Them Freedom without war might not suffice:
Quarrels were rife; greedy Desire, still poor,
Did vile deeds; then 't was worth the price of blood,
And deemed renown, to spoil their native town;
Force mastered right, the strongest governed all;
Hence came it that the edicts were o'erruled,
That laws were broke, tribunes with consuls strove,
Sale made of offices and people's voices
Bought by themselves and sold, and every year
Frauds and corruption in the Field of Mars;
Hence interest and devouring usury sprang,
Faith's breach and hence came war, to most men welcome.
Now Caesar overpast the snowy Alps:
His mind was troubled, and he aimed at war:
And coming to the ford of Rubicon,
At night in dreadful vision fearful Rome
Mourning appeared, whose hoary hairs were torn,
And on her turret-bearing head disperst,
And arms all naked; who with broken sighs,
And staring, thus bespoke: -- " What mean'st thou, Caesar?
Whither goes my standard? Romans if ye be,
And bear true hearts, stay here. " This spectacle
Struck Caesar's heart with fear; his hair stood up,
And faintness numbed his steps there on the brink.
He thus cried out: -- " Thou Thunderer that guard'st
Rome's mighty walls, built on Tarpeian rock.
Ye Gods of Phrygia and Iulus' line,
Quirinus' rites and Latian Jove advanced
On Alba hill. O vestal flames! O Rome,
My thought's sole goddess, aid mine enterprise!
I hate thee not, to thee my conquests stoop:
Caesar is thine, so please it thee, thy soldier!
He, he afflicts Rome that made me Rome's foe. "
This said, he, laying aside all lets of war,
Approacht the swelling stream with drum and ensign:
Like to a lion of scorcht desert Afric,
Who, seeing hunters, pauseth till fell wrath
And kingly rage increase; then, having whiskt
His tail athwart his back, and crest heaved up,
With jaws wide-open ghastly roaring out,
Albeit the Moor's light javelin or his spear
Sticks in his side, yet runs upon the hunter.
In Summer-time the purple Rubicon,
Which issues from a small spring, is but shallow,
And creeps along the vales, dividing just
The bounds of Italy from Cisalpine France.
But now the Winter's wrath and watery moon,
Being three days old, enforced the flood to swell,
And frozen Alps thawed with revolving winds.
The thunder-hooft horse, in a crooked line,
To scape the violence of the stream, first waded;
Which being broke, the foot had easy passage.
As soon as Caesar got unto the passage bank
And bounds of Italy, " Here, here, " saith he,
" An end of peace; here end polluted laws!
Hence leagues and covenants. Fortune, thee I follow!
War and the Destinies shall try my cause. "
This said, the restless general through the dark,
Swifter than bullets thrown from Spanish slings,
Or darts which Parthians backward shoot, marcht on.