Brennus sacked the town And Hannibal, and all the Teuton hosts.
For when the fate of Rome is in the scale By this path war advances." Thus they moan Their fears but speak them not; no sound is heard Giving their anguish utterance: as when In depth of winter all the fields are still, The birds are voiceless and no sound is heard To break the silence of the central sea.
But when the day had broken through the shades Of chilly darkness, lo! the torch of war! For by the hand of Fate is swift dispersed All Caesar's shame of battle, and his mind Scarce doubted more; and Fortune toiled to make His action just and give him cause for arms.
For while Rome doubted and the tongues of men Spoke of the chiefs who won them rights of yore, The hostile Senate, in contempt of right, Drove out the Tribunes.

They to Caesar's camp With Curio hasten, who of venal tongue, Bold, prompt, persuasive, had been wont to preach Of Freedom to the people, and to call Upon the chiefs to lay their weapons down (11).
And when he saw how deeply Caesar mused, "While from the rostrum I had power," he said, To call the populace to aid thy cause, By this my voice against the Senate's will Was thy command prolonged.

But silenced now Are laws in war: we driven from our homes; Yet is our exile willing; for thine arms Shall make us citizens of Rome again.
Strike; for no strength as yet the foe hath gained.
Occasion calls, delay shall mar it soon: Like risk, like labour, thou hast known before, But never such reward.

Could Gallia hold Thine armies ten long years ere victory came, That little nook of earth?
One paltry fight Or twain, fought out by thy resistless hand, And Rome for thee shall have subdued the world: 'Tis true no triumph now would bring thee home; No captive tribes would grace thy chariot wheels Winding in pomp around the ancient hill.
Spite gnaws the factions; for thy conquests won Scarce shalt thou be unpunished.

Yet 'tis fate Thou should'st subdue thy kinsman: share the world With him thou canst not; rule thou canst, alone." As when at Elis' festival a horse In stable pent gnaws at his prison bars Impatient, and should clamour from without Strike on his ear, bounds furious at restraint, So then was Caesar, eager for the fight, Stirred by the words of Curio.