Complete Works of Silius Italicus Read online

  Aeneas was touched: he had admitted to his heart a gentle and kindly feeling towards Anna in her troubles. Soon she had put away all grief and sorrow from her heart, and she no longer seemed a stranger in the palace of the Trojan. When black night had wrapped all things in silent sleep, over all the earth and the still expanse of sea, she dreamed that her sister, Dido, with a face of sorrow and utmost grief, spoke to her thus: “Sister, too heedless sister, how can you bear to sleep long under this roof? Are you blind to the snares laid for you and the dangers that surround you? Do you not yet understand that the people of Laomedon bring doom upon our nation and our land? As long as the sky makes the stars revolve with rapid course, and the moon lights up the earth with her brother’s radiance, no lasting peace shall there be between the Aeneadae and the men of Tyre. Rise in haste; I distrust Lavinia — already she is laying snares in secret, and ponders some horrible outrage. Further — nor deem this message the idle coinage of sleep — not far from here the river Numicus flows down from a little spring and runs with gentle current through the valleys. Hasten, sister, to a harbour of safety there. The Nymphs will gladly admit you to their sacred stream; and your deity shall be for ever honoured in the land of Italy.” So Dido spoke and vanished into thin air.

  Terrified by her strange dream, Anna started up from sleep; and fear covered her limbs with a cold sweat. Then, just as she was, with one thin garment to cover her, she sprang from her bed and, climbing out by the low window, ran swiftly over the open fields, until the river Numieius — so the legend runs — received her in his sandy depths and hid her in his crystal grottoes. Dawn had filled the whole world with radiance, when the Aeneadae found that the stranger from Carthage had vanished from her chamber. With loud shouts they went to and fro through the country, and followed the plain footprints to the river-bank. And while they marvelled, one to another, the river stopped the seaward course of its waters; and then the stranger was seen sitting among her sister Naiads, and she addressed the Trojans with friendly speech. Ever since, Anna’s feast has been held on the first days of the year, and she has been worshipped as divine throughout Italy.

  When Juno had appealed to Anna to stir up battle and sorrow for Italy, her swift ear carried her back to heaven; she hoped at last to gain her wish and drink the blood of Latium. Anna, obedient to the goddess, made her way in invisible shape to the great leader of the Libyan people. He, as it chanced, had banished all company from him; he was pondering the uncertain issues of fortune and of war, and sighed in his perplexity, while his mind kept watch. Thus the goddess soothed his troubles with friendly speech: “Mightiest ruler of the Phoenicians, why do you persist in nursing this great grief in sick anxiety? All the wrath of the gods against you has now been appeased, all their goodwill has come back to the children of Agenor. Rise up, then, without loitering or delay! Speed on the forces of Marmariea to battle! The consuls are changed. By the unwisdom of the Senate the heroic scion of Hercules has laid down his arms, and you have to fight against a second Flaminius. I was sent to you — doubt it not — by the consort of the almighty Thunderer. Though I am honoured in the land of Italy as an immortal goddess, I was born of the seed of Belus your ancestor. Make no delay; launch the thunderbolts of war with utmost speed, where Mount Garganus sinks down to the fields of Iapygia; the land is not far distant; straight to that point send your standards.” She ended, and her watery image rose up to the clouds.

  The general, revived by this pledge of glory to come, addressed her thus: “Nymph, glory of our nation, as sacred to me as any deity, be propitious and give a favourable issue to your promises. If I may fight a battle, I will set your image in a marble shrine on the citadel of Carthage, and dedicate beside it an image of Dido, and both shall be honoured alike.” Thus he spoke, and then swollen with pride encouraged his triumphant comrades. “Soldiers! messengers of death to Italy! Here is an end to heavy hearts and the lingering torture of inaction. We have appeased the anger of the gods, and they turn again to us. I announce to you that the command of Fabius, that pettifogger, is now at an end, and that the rods are borne before a new consul. Now let each of you renew his pledges to me, and make good the deeds of valour which you used to promise when debarred from fighting. See! a goddess of our country promises a future greater than our past. Pull up the standards, and let us follow the goddess to the field where the name of Diomede is of ill omen to Trojans.”

  Thus encouraged, the Carthaginians made for Arpi. Meanwhile Varro, relying on the purple that he had seized by gift of the people, was already ranting on the Rostrum, and, by his haste to prepare the way for a mighty downfall, brought Rome near to destruction. His birth was obscure; the name of his ancestors was never heard; but his impudent tongue wagged unceasingly, and his voice was loud. Thus he got wealth, and he was liberal with his plunder; and so, by courting the dregs of the people and railing at the Senate, he rose so high in the war-stricken city that he alone could turn the scale of events and settle the course of destiny, though Italy might blush to owe even victory and safety to such a man. Blind voters had given to him, that blot upon the Calendar, a place among such men as Fabius, and the Scipios, whose names are sacred to Mars, and Marcellus, who presented his glorious spoils to Jupiter. The holocaust of Cannae was due to bribery, and to the Field of Mars, more fatal than the field of Diomede. Also, though a bad citizen, skilful to stir up trouble and kindle hatred, he was helpless in the field, unpractised in the conduct of war, and not approved by any deed of valour; but he hoped to gain martial glory by his tongue and sounded the war-cry from the Rostrum. Therefore he bestirred himself; and, professing to blame Fabius for delay, he attacked the Senate in a speech to the people, as if he were already victorious: “The supreme power is yours,” he said, “and from you I, the consul, ask directions for the conduct of the war. Am I to do nothing, or to move from height to height, while Garamantians and dark-skinned Moors share Italy with me, or am I to use the sword which you gird about me? Listen, O worthy Dictator, to the order issued by the people of Mars: this is their demand, that the Libyans be driven out and Rome relieved of her enemy. Are they impatient? No! They have endured countless woes, and a third year is now consuming them with its suffering and sorrow. Rise then and arm, citizens! A short march is all that divides you from victory. The first day that reveals the enemy to your view will end the tyranny of the Senate and the war with Carthage. Go forward with good courage; I shall yet lead Hannibal through the city with Roman chains about his neck, and Fabius shall look on.”

  After this invective he led the army in haste outside the gates, and swept away all obstacles. So, when the starting-gate is broken down, the unskilful charioteer loses all control of the reins: bending forward with unsteady foothold to flog his team, he is borne on headlong at the mercy of the horses; the axles smoke with the excessive speed, and the tangled reins of the unsteady car swing from side to side. Paulus, to whom the voters had given equal power and authority with Varro, saw that the state was rushing on to ruin, destroyed by the ill-omened consul. But the anger of a turbulent mob is easily stirred; and the scar of an ancient wrong, imprinted on his memory, checked the wave of resentment in his troubled breast. For, when formerly as a younger man he had conquered Illyrieum, the foul mouth of envy had barked at the conqueror and persecuted him with cruel slander. Hence he feared the people and bowed before their enmity. Yet his race was akin to the gods, and he was related to the lords of heaven through his ancestors. For through Amulius, the founder of his line, he could trace descent from Assaracus, and through Assaracus to Jupiter; and none who saw him fight would dispute his pedigree. Now, when he was going to the camp, Fabius addressed him thus: “Paulus, though I shrink from saying this thing, you are mistaken if you regard Hannibal as your chief opponent. Sore strife with Romans lies ahead of you, and a more grievous foe in your own camp; or else long experience of war has not taught me to predict disaster. I heard Varro promise — irksome, alas! and burdensome is my old age, if it lasts on to endure the destructio
n I foresee — yes, promise that he would fight Hannibal, that favourite of Fortune, the very hour he saw him. How near we are now, Paulus, to utter ruin, if this boast of the consul’s comes to the eager ear of Hannibal! Already, I doubt not, his army is arrayed on the wide plains to meet us, and waiting with uplifted swords for a second Flaminius. What mighty opponents will you rouse, Varro — you, God help us! — in your mad desire for battle! Are you the man to study the ground beforehand and examine at leisure the ways of the enemy? You have no skill to investigate his supplies or the strength of his position or his method of warfare; you will not keep an eye on Fortune which matters more than any weapon. But you, Paulus, keep to the path of duty unswervingly. If a single arm may destroy our country, why should not a single arm preserve it? Bold Hannibal now lacks food for his army, and his allies are lukewarm and have lost their keenness for battle. No house in Italy offers him the hospitality due from kindred, no loyal cities welcome him, and his army is not renewed with recruits of equal value. Scarce a third part survives of the army that started from the banks of the cold Ebro. Persevere, and keep to the cautious methods that alone can heal the wounds of war. But if meanwhile some favourable turn encourages you and Heaven approves, then be quick to follow up good fortune.”

  Brief and sad was the reply of Paulus: “I shall surely follow that path of duty, and in your spirit I shall meet the Carthaginians, O undefeated Fabius. And I realize our one resource — the resource of delay, which you used till an enfeebled Hannibal saw the war arrested and crushed. But what means this anger of Heaven? Of the two consuls one, I believe, is their gift to Rome and the other their gift to Carthage. Varro drags all things in his train, and the madman fears that some other consul than himself may witness the fall of Rome. If a Carthaginian senator were summoned as my colleague, he would be less ruthless in his purpose. No war-horse is swift enough to carry that madman against the enemy; when the darkness of night comes on, he resents the hindrance to his activity; he marches proudly on, with swords that are all but drawn, that the drawing of the blade from the sheath may not delay the battle. I swear by the Tarpeian rock, by the temple of Jupiter with whom I claim kindred, and by the walls of my glorious native city, which I leave still standing with their citadel — I swear that whithersoever the safety of the state summons me, thither I will go and despise the danger. But if the soldiers, deaf to my warning, engage in battle, then I shall think no longer of my sons, the dear descendants of Assaracus; and never shall a stricken Rome see me like Varro returning home.”

  So then the two commanders set off for the camp, disquieted by discordant purposes. Hannibal had already encamped where Anna had foretold, keeping to the plains of Diomede for a battle-ground. Never was the soil of Italy trampled by a greater concourse of men or by a larger body of cavalry in arms. For men dreaded the destruction of nation and capital alike; and there was no prospect of ever fighting a second battle.

  The Rutulians, descendants of Faunus, aided by Sicanians, came to battle; these are a sacred band, who dwell in the realm of Daunus, and rejoice in the dwellings of Laurentum and the stream of the Numicius; they were sent forth by Castrum and by Ardea once hostile to Trojans, and by Lanuvium, the home of Juno that lies on the side of a steep hill; and by Collatia, the nurse of chaste Brutus. They also came who love the grove of pitiless Diana and the mouths of the Tuscan river, and wash Cybele’s image in the warm stream of Almo. Next came Tibur, the city of Catillus; and Praeneste, whose sacred hill is dedicated to Fortune; and Antemna, more ancient than even Crustumium; and the men of Labicum, handy with the plough; and also those who drink the water of imperial Tiber; and those who dwell on the banks of the Anio, and draw water from chill Simbruvius, and harrow the fields of Aequicola. All these were led by Scaurus and though Scaurus was but youthful then, his youth already gave promise of undying fame; his men were not wont to hurl the spear-shaft in battle, or to fill quivers with feathered arrows; they prefer the pilum and handy short-bladed sword; they wear helmets of bronze, and their plumes wave above the ranks.

  Setia, whose vintage is reserved for the table of Lyaeus himself, sent her men, and so did the valley of Velitrae well known to fame, and Cora, and Signia whose foaming wine is bitter; and the Pomptine marshes that breed disease, where the misty swamp of Satura covers the land, and the dark Ufens drives his black and muddy current through unsightly fields and dyes the sea with slime. These were led by Scaevola, nobly born and in courage not unworthy of his ancestors. Carved upon his shield was a picture of that dreadful deed of heroism : the fire blazed on the altar, and Mucius stood in the centre of the Tuscan camp and turned his rage against himself; and his ruthless courage was seen in the carving. Cowed by such a sight, and taught by such an example, Porsena was shown, abandoning the war and flying from that burning hand.

  Sulla led to war the men who till the heights of Circe and the steep hill of Anxur, and the Hernicans who drive the ploughshare deep into their stony ground, and those who furrow the rich crumbling soil of Anagnia; and he summoned also the men of Ferentinum and Privernum; and the fighting men of Sora were there too with glittering arms. Here were the men of Scaptia and of Fabrateria; nor did Atina fail to come down from its snow-clad height, nor Suessa, lessened by wars, nor Frusino, trained to battle by the labour of the plough. Then the hardy men of Arpinum, dwellers by the Liris, which mingles its sulphurous waters with the Fibrenus and runs with silent course to the sea, rose up in arms, bringing with them fighters from Venafrum and Larinum, and draining mighty Aquinum of its men. Their mail-clad squadrons were sped to battle by Tullius, the son of kings and descended from Tullus of old. How noble was his youthful promise! and how great the immortal descendant he was to give to Italy! That voice shall fill the earth and be heard beyond the Ganges and the peoples of India; with the thunders of his tongue Cicero shall quell the frenzy of war, and shall leave behind him a renown that no orator of after times can hope to equal.

  But lo! Nero rides proudly among the foremost, with the Spartan blood of Clausus in his veins, and unrivalled in swift deeds of valour. With him come the soldiers of Amiterna, and Casperia that takes its name from Bactra, and Foruli, and Iteate sacred to the great Mother of the Gods, and Nursia the abode of snow, and warriors from rocky Tetricus. All these carry spears and rounded shields; their helmets have no plume, and they wear greaves on the left leg. As they marched, some of them raised a song in honour of Sancus, the founder of their race, while others praised Sabus, who first gave his name to the ‘wide dominion of the Sabines.

  And what of Curio, bristling with scale-armour and plume of horse-hair — Curio, a host in himself, who urged on the men of Picenum? Thick and fast they come, like the billows on a stormy sea that whiten amid the breaking waves; less active are the riders, when the Warrior Maid with the crescent-shaped shield reviews her thousand squadrons in mimic warfare, till the earth resounds, and Thermodon too, the river of the Amazons. Here might be seen the men whom the fields of rocky Numana feed, and those for whom the altar of Cupra smokes by the shore, and those who guard the towers and rivers of Truentum; their shielded ranks glitter afar in the sunlight and throw a blood-red-radiance skyward. Here stood Ancona, which rivals Sidon and the purple of Libya in the dyeing of cloth; and here stood Hadria washed by the Vomanus, and here the fierce standard-bearers of wooded Asculum. Pieus, the famous son of ancient Saturn, was the father and founder of Asculum long ago — Picus whom Circe by her spells deprived of human shape, and sentenced to fly about in the sky; and she speckled his feathers with bright saffron colour as he fled from her. Legend tells that the land was possessed earlier by Pelasgians, the subjects of Aesis who left his name to a river and called his people after himself by the name of Asili.

  But the Umbrians, dwellers in the country, brought no less strength to the Roman army, when they came from their hills and valleys. Their rivers are the Aesis and the Sapis, and the Metaurus which drives its rapid stream over rocks in noisy eddies; and there Clitumnus bathes in its sacred waters the might
y bull; and there is the Nar whose pale waves hasten to the Tiber, and the Tinia unknown to fame, and the Clanis, and the Rubicon, and the Sena named after the Senones. But Father Albula flow’s through their midst with his mighty stream and grazes their walls and brings near his banks. The Umbrian towns are Arna, Mevania of rich pastures, Hispellum, Narnia that lies among the rocks on the rough mountain-side, Iguvium that damp mists formerly made unhealthy, and Fulginia that stands unwalled on the open plain. These sent good soldiers — Amerians, Camertes famous alike with sword or plough, men of Sassina rich in flocks, and men of Tuder, no laggards in war. These death-defying warriors were led by Piso, with the face of a boy and fair to see; but he had all the wisdom of age and wit beyond his years. In the front rank he stood, a splendid figure in shining armour, even as a fiery jewel glitters on the golden collar of a Parthian king.

  Another army manned by Etruscan warriors obeyed Galba of glorious name. Minos, and Pasiphae whom the bull deceived, were the authors of his line, and his ancestors who followed in order were famous too. The choicest of their men were sent by Caere and Cortona, the seat of proud Tarchon, and by ancient Graviscae. Alsium too sent men, the city by the sea that Halaesus the Argive loved; and Fregenae, girt about by a barren plain. Faesula also was present — Faesula that can interpret the winged lightning of heaven; and the people of Clusium, terrible once to the walls of Rome, when great Porsena in vain required of the Romans to obey the tyrants they had expelled. Then Luna sent out fighters from her marble quarries — Luna, whose famous harbour, as large as any, shuts out the sea and shelters countless vessels; and Vetulonia, once the pride of the Lydian race. From that city came the twelve bundles of rods that are borne before the consul, and also the twelve axes with their silent menace; she adorned the high eurule chairs with the beauty of ivory, and first bordered the robe of office with Tyrian purple; and the brazen trumpet which inflames the warrior was her invention also. Together with these came the men of Nepete, and the Aequi of Falerium, and the inhabitants of Flavina, and men who dwell by the Sabatian lakes and the Ciminian mere, and their neighbours from Sutrium, and those who haunt Soracte, the sacred hill of Phoebus. Each carries two spears; a wild beast’s skin is protection enough for their heads; their spears despise the bow of Lycia.