Ah! had he come With only Gallia conquered and the North (4), What long array of triumph had he brought! What pictured scenes of battle! how had Rhine And Ocean borne his chains! How noble Gaul, And Britain's fair-haired chiefs his lofty car Had followed! Such a triumph had he lost By further conquest.

Now in silent fear They watched his marching troops, nor joyful towns Poured out their crowds to welcome his return.
Yet did the conqueror's proud soul rejoice, Far more than at their love, at such a fear.
Now Anxur's hold was passed, the oozy road That separates the marsh, the grove sublime (5) Where reigns the Scythian goddess, and the path By which men bear the fasces to the feast On Alba's summit.

From the height afar -- Gazing in awe upon the walls of Rome His native city, since the Northern war Unseen, unvisited -- thus Caesar spake: "Who would not fight for such a god-like town?
And have they left thee, Rome, without a blow?
Thank the high gods no eastern hosts are here To wreak their fury; nor Sarmatian horde With northern tribes conjoined; by Fortune's gift This war is civil: else this coward chief Had been thy ruin." Trembling at his feet He found the city: deadly fire and flame, As from a conqueror, gods and fanes dispersed; Such was the measure of their fear, as though His power and wish were one.

No festal shout Greeted his march, no feigned acclaim of joy.
Scarce had they time for hate.

In Phoebus' hall Their hiding places left, a crowd appeared Of Senators, uncalled, for none could call.
No Consul there the sacred shrine adorned Nor Praetor next in rank, and every seat Placed for the officers of state was void: Caesar was all; and to his private voice (6) All else were listeners.