Now the camp Hums with impatience, and the brave man's heart With beats tumultuous throbs against his breast; And all the host had standing in their looks (5) The paleness of the death that was to come.
On that day's fight 'twas manifest that Rome And all the future destinies of man Hung trembling; and by weightier dread possessed, They knew not danger.

Who would fear for self Should ocean rise and whelm the mountain tops, And sun and sky descend upon the earth In universal chaos?
Every mind Is bent upon Pompeius, and on Rome.
They trust no sword until its deadly point Glows on the sharpening stone; no lance will serve Till straightened for the fray; each bow is strung Anew, and arrows chosen for their work Fill all the quivers; horsemen try the curb And fit the bridle rein and whet the spur.
If toils divine with human may compare, 'Twas thus, when Phlegra bore the giant crew, (6) In Etna's furnace glowed the sword of Mars, Neptunus' trident felt the flame once more; And great Apollo after Python slain Sharpened his darts afresh: on Pallas' shield Was spread anew the dread Medusa's hair; And broad Sicilia trembled at the blows Of Vulcan forging thunderbolts for Jove.
Yet Fortune failed not, as they sought the field, In various presage of the ills to come; All heaven opposed their march: portentous fire In columns filled the plain, and torches blazed: And thirsty whirlwinds mixed with meteor bolts Smote on them as they strode, whose sulphurous flames Perplexed the vision.

Crests were struck from helms; The melted sword-blade flowed upon the hilt: The spear ran liquid, and the hurtful steel Smoked with a sulphur that had come from heaven.
Nay, more, the standards, hid by swarms of bees Innumerable, weighed the bearer down, Scarce lifted from the earth; bedewed with tears; No more of Rome the standards, (7) or her state.
And from the altar fled the frantic bull To fields afar; nor was a victim found To grace the sacrifice of coming doom.
But thou, Caesar, to what gods of ill Didst thou appeal?
What furies didst thou call, What powers of madness and what Stygian Kings Whelmed in th' abyss of hell?
Didst favour gain By sacrifice in this thine impious war?
Strange sights were seen; or caused by hands divine Or due to fearful fancy.

Haemus' top Plunged headlong in the valley, Pindus met With high Olympus, while at Ossa's feet Red ran Baebeis, (8) and Pharsalia's field Gave warlike voices forth in depth of night.
Now darkness came upon their wondering gaze, Now daylight pale and wan, their helmets wreathed In pallid mist; the spirits of their sires Hovered in air, and shades of kindred dead Passed flitting through the gloom.

Yet to the host Conscious of guilty prayers which sought to shed The blood of sires and brothers, earth and air Distraught, and horrors seething in their hearts Gave happy omen of the end to come.
Was't strange that peoples whom their latest day Of happy life awaited (if their minds Foreknew the doom) should tremble with affright?
Romans who dwelt by far Araxes' stream, And Tyrian Gades, (9) in whatever clime, 'Neath every sky, struck by mysterious dread Were plunged in sorrow -- yet rebuked the tear, For yet they knew not of the fatal day.
Thus on Euganean hills (10) where sulphurous fumes Disclose the rise of Aponus (11) from earth, And where Timavus broadens in the meads, An augur spake: "This day the fight is fought, The arms of Caesar and Pompeius meet To end the impious conflict." Or he saw The bolts of Jupiter, predicting ill; Or else the sky discordant o'er the space Of heaven, from pole to pole; or else perchance The sun was sad and misty in the height And told the battle by his wasted beams.
By Nature's fiat that Thessalian day Passed not as others; if the gifted sense Of reading portents had been given to all, All men had known Pharsalia.