By Jove's decree Olympus rears his summit o'er the clouds: In lowlier valleys storms and winds contend, But peace eternal reigns upon the heights.
What joy for Caesar, if the tidings come That such a citizen has joined the war?
Glad would he see thee e'en in Magnus' tents; For Cato's conduct shall approve his own.
Pompeius, with the Consul in his ranks, And half the Senate and the other chiefs, Vexes my spirit; and should Cato too Bend to a master's yoke, in all the world The one man free is Caesar.

But if thou For freedom and thy country's laws alone Be pleased to raise the sword, nor Magnus then Nor Caesar shall in Brutus find a foe.
Not till the fight is fought shall Brutus strike, Then strike the victor." Brutus thus; but spake Cato from inmost breast these sacred words: "Chief in all wickedness is civil war, Yet virtue in the paths marked out by fate Treads on securely.

Heaven's will be the crime To have made even Cato guilty.

Who has strength To gaze unawed upon a toppling world?
When stars and sky fall headlong, and when earth Slips from her base, who sits with folded hands?
Shall unknown nations, touched by western strife, And monarchs born beneath another clime Brave the dividing seas to join the war?
Shall Scythian tribes desert their distant north, And Getae haste to view the fall of Rome, And I look idly on?
As some fond sire, Reft of his sons, compelled by grief, himself Marshals the long procession to the tomb, Thrusts his own hand within the funeral flames, Soothing his heart, and, as the lofty pyre Rises on high, applies the kindled torch: Nought, Rome, shall tear thee from me, till I hold Thy form in death embraced; and Freedom's name, Shade though it be, I'll follow to the grave.
Yea! let the cruel gods exact in full Rome's expiation: of no drop of blood The war be robbed.

I would that, to the gods Of heaven and hell devoted, this my life Might satisfy their vengeance.