But Caesar knew his wish Was punishment, and pardon was his fear: "Live though thou would'st not," so the chieftain spake, "And by my gift, unwilling, see the day: Be to my conquered foes the cause of hope, Proof of my clemency -- or if thou wilt Take arms again -- and should'st thou conquer, count This pardon nothing." Thus he spake, and bade Let loose the bands and set the captive free.
Ah! better had he died, and fortune spared The Roman's last dishonour, whose worse doom It is, that he who joined his country's camp And fought with Magnus for the Senate's cause Should gain for this -- a pardon! Yet he curbed His anger, thinking, "Wilt thou then to Rome And peaceful scenes, degenerate?
Rather war, The furious battle and the certain end! Break with life's ties: be Caesar's gift in vain." Pompeius, ignorant that his captain thus Was taken, armed his levies newly raised To give his legions strength; and as he thought To sound his trumpets with the coming dawn, To test his soldiers ere he moved his camp Thus in majestic tones their ranks addressed: "Soldiers of Rome! Avengers of her laws! To whom the Senate gives no private arms, Ask by your voices for the battle sign.
Fierce falls the pillage on Hesperian fields, And Gallia's fury o'er the snowy Alps (25) Is poured upon us.

Caesar's swords at last Are red with Roman blood.

But with the wound We gain the better cause; the crime is theirs.
No war is this, but for offended Rome We wreak the vengeance; as when Catiline Lifted against her roofs the flaming brand And, partner in his fury, Lentulus, And mad Cethegus (26) with his naked arm.
Is such thy madness, Caesar?
when the Fates With great Camillus' and Metellus' names Might place thine own, dost thou prefer to rank With Marius and Cinna?
Swift shall be Thy fall: as Lepidus before the sword Of Catulus; or who my axes felt, Carbo (27), now buried in Sicanian tomb; Or who, in exile, roused Iberia's hordes, Sertorius -- yet, witness Heaven, with these I hate to rank thee; hate the task that Rome Has laid upon me, to oppose thy rage.
Would that in safety from the Parthian war And Scythian steppes had conquering Crassus come! Then haply had'st thou fallen by the hand That smote vile Spartacus the robber foe.
But if among my triumphs fate has said Thy conquest shall be written, know this heart Still sends the life blood coursing: and this arm (28) Still vigorously flings the dart afield.
He deems me slothful.

Caesar, thou shalt learn We brook not peace because we lag in war.
Old, does he call me?
Fear not ye mine age.
Let me be elder, if his soldiers are.
The highest point a citizen can reach And leave his people free, is mine: a throne Alone were higher; whoso would surpass Pompeius, aims at that.

Both Consuls stand Here; here for battle stand your lawful chiefs: And shall this Caesar drag the Senate down?
Not with such blindness, not so lost to shame Does Fortune rule.