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  Meanwhile Bostar arrived, bearing the oracular response of Jupiter. He came with joy, after traversing the deserts of the Garamantes, and encouraged Hannibal, as if he had seen the Thunder-god with his own eyes: “Mighty son of Belus, whose right arm defends your native walls from slavery, we made our way to the shrine of Libya. The Syrtis, which spatters the stars with its foam, bore us on towards the gods; and the land, more furious than the sea, almost swallowed us up. From the centre of earth to the limit of the sky the barren plains stretch out. Nowhere in that boundless tract does Nature suffer the level to rise, save where a whirlwind, thick with accumulated sand, and driving the hollow clouds along, has raised up a mound. Or sometimes the South-west wind breaks its prison and devastates the earth; and then a blast from the North-west, scattering the sea over the sky, falls fiercely on the plain that is large enough for their battle; and the two winds, blowing against each other, raise mountains of heaped-up sand. We steered our course across these hollows by observation of the stars; for daylight confuses the tracks, and the Little Bear, which never deceives the Phoenician mariner, guides the traveller, as he strays over the sandy depths and ever sees the waste all round him. But when we came, weary travellers, to the groves and tree-clad abode and shining temple of Jupiter who has horns on his forehead, Arisbas welcomed us as guests and took us to his house. Beside the temple is a wondrous marvel — a spring, whose water is lukewarm at morning and at evening, but cold when the midday sun kindles the sky; and the same water boils again in the darkness of night. Then that old man showed us the places which the god fills with his presence, and the fields that bear crops without the plough; and thus he addressed us with cheerful heart: ‘Bostar, bow down in prayer before these shady woods, this roof that soars to heaven, and these groves where Jupiter has trodden. For who upon earth has not heard of the gift of Jupiter — the two doves that perched on the lap of Thebe? One of these flew to the land of Chaonia and there fills the oak of Dodona with prophetic utterance; but the other bird of Venus sailed through the sky over the Carpathian sea, and flew on dusky wings to the dusky people of Libya, and founded here the site for a temple. Here, where now you see the altar and the shady groves, the dove — marvellous to tell — chose out a leader of the flock, and stood between the horns of his fleecy head, and prophesied to the people of Marmarica. Later, trees sprang suddenly from the earth, and a grove of ancient oaks; and, as the branches now reach the skies, so they grew on their first day. Hence the grove is sacred and awful from ancient times, and is worshipped with steaming altars.’ While we marvelled at his words, the doors suddenly flew open with a terrible crash, and a brighter light suddenly struck upon our eyes. Before the altar stood the priest, conspicuous in his snow-white robe, and the people thronged eagerly to the doors. Then when I had uttered the message with which I was charged, behold! the god suddenly entered the breast of the prophet. The trees clashed against one another, and a deep humming noise passed through the resounding grove; and then a voice, louder than any we know, burst forth into the air: ‘Men of Libya, ye move against Latium, and prepare to make war against the seed of Assaracus. I see a perilous enterprise; I see fierce Mars even now mounting his chariot; I see his furious steeds breathing forth black flame against the Western land, and the blood that streams down from his reins. And thou, who seekest to know the issue of battle and the fated end, and boldly spreadest thy sail for the glorious adventure, advance against the Iapygian plain of the Aetolian leader : thou shalt glorify thy Phoenician ancestors, and no man after thee shall be able to pierce deeper into the vitals of the Ausonian race, so long as the Dardan realm shall tremble beneath thy conquests. Nor shall the race of Saturn ever be free from fear, so long as Hannibal draws breath in the upper world.’”

  Such was the welcome oracle that Bostar brought back; and he filled the army with desire for instant battle.

  BOOK IV

  ARGUMENT

  ROME IS GREATLY ALARMED BY THE NEWS THAT HANNIBAL HAS REACHED ITALY: BUT THE SENATE DOES NOT LOSE HEART (1-38). HANNIBAL COURTS THE GAULS OF N. ITALY. SCIPIO HURRIES BACK FROM MARSEILLES (39-55). BOTH GENERALS ADDRESS THEIR SOLDIERS AND PREPARE FOR BATTLE (56-100). AN OMEN PRECEDES THE BATTLE (101-134). THE BATTLE OF THE TICINUS (135-479). SCIPIO WITHDRAWS TO THE TREBIA, AND IS JOINED BY AN ARMY UNDER TI. SEMPRONIUS LONGUS (480-497). HANNIBAL FORCES THE ROMANS TO FIGHT (498-524). THE BATTLE OF THE TREBIA (525-704). THE CONSUL G. FLAMINIUS LEADS A FRESH ARMY INTO ETRURIA (705-721). INSTIGATED BY JUNO, HANNIBAL CROSSES THE APENNINES AND ENCAMPS BY LAKE TRASIMENE (722-762). ENVOYS FROM CARTHAGE INQUIRE WHETHER HE CONSENTS TO THE IMMOLATION OF HIS INFANT SON: HE REFUSES (763-829).

  RUMOUR, spreading through the dismayed cities of Ausonia, told that cloud-capped mountains and heaven-threatening peaks had been conquered, that the Carthaginians had passed over trackless wilds, and that Hannibal had descended from the Alps, boasting an exploit that rivalled the labour of Hercules. Mischievous Rumour prophesied dread commotions, and, growing as she went, and moving swifter than the wings of the wind, shook the panic-stricken cities with alarming reports. Then fear, quick to feed the talk of the populace with falsehood, exaggerated what it heard. Men turned quickly to the fierce business of war, and Mars suddenly raised a clamour throughout Italy, summoning arms and men. They refashion their javelins; the steel is cleansed of rust and puts on its cruel glitter; and helmets, long laid by, renew the beauty of their snowy plumes; the spear is strengthened by a thong, and axes are brought back reforged from the furnace. The cuirass that must parry many a thrust and unsuccessful blow is fitted together, to form a protection for the body that nothing can pierce. Some sit late, to mend the bow; some tame the panting steed with the whip and make him wheel about; and others whet the sword upon the stone. Nor are men slow to repair the walls that time has attacked; they bring up stone in wagons and refashion the hollow towers eaten away by age. The citadels too are stored with missiles; men hasten to bring from the forest oak-timber for their gates and trusty bars, and dig moats around. Fear, an active taskmaster, speeds all the work; and terror is rife in the deserted fields. Men leave their homes; panic-stricken, they carry ailing mothers upon their shoulders and drag along old men whose span of life is almost ended; they drive their wives with dishevelled hair in front of them; behind them come the little children with shorter steps, clinging to their father’s right hand and left. Thus the people flee, handing on their fear to one another; and no man asks the origin of the reports. But the Senate, though alarmed by the enemy at their doors and by his enormous enterprise, and disappointed by his passage over the Alps, nevertheless opposed the danger with unbroken spirit and high courage. They rejoice to march through peril to glory, and to build by strength of arm such a monument of fame as Fortune has never granted to prosperity.

  But Hannibal nursed his army behind the protection of a camp, while the men were weary of marching and their muscles were stiff with continued frost; and, by way of consolation, he pointed out that the rest of the march to Rome was over level ground, and that the city was at their mercy. But he did not approve of any pause in his own survey of affairs and plan of campaign; and he alone could not endure inaction. Once before, in ancient days, armed tribes had invaded the happy land of Italy and caused terror by their might; and soon the Tarpeian Father and the conquered Quirites felt the shock of sacrilegious warfare. But, while he was tempting the Gauls with bribes, working on the folly and fickleness of that people, and making an alliance with them, the consul Seipio was returning from the land of the Phoeaeans, sailing with speed along the coast. Each mighty chief had completed his hard task, one on land and the other by sea; and now a more instant danger brought their camps together; and the beginnings of a great disaster were present. For when the consul arrived and the armies faced each other, and Fortune put an end to delays, the soldiers, roused by the sight of the enemy, demanded the signal for the furious assault. Then Hannibal’s voice rose in a great shout over his mighty host: “We have subdued all that distant land that bears the name
of Spain; the Pyrenees and the proud Rhone have obeyed our bidding; Rutulian Saguntum has gone up in smoke; we forced a passage through Gaul; and, where Hercules found it hard to tread, the soldiers of Carthage have marched in arms; our horsemen have ridden up the heights and trampled on the peaks, and the Alps have echoed with the snorting of our steeds.” On the other side the consul summoned his men to danger and to glory: “Soldiers, your foes are enfeebled and frost-bitten by the Alpine snows, and drag their benumbed limbs with difficulty. They have crossed inviolate mountains and rocky chasms: well, let them learn how high our rampart rises above the citadel of Saguntum, and which is the harder task — to climb hills or to break your ranks. Let them boast of their useless exploit — I care not, if only the Alps oppose them, when they have been routed in a great battle and are rushing back the way they came. Heaven brought them hither and led them over the heights, that they might dye the land of Latium with their blood and lay their bones in a hostile soil. I would fain know whether this war is launched by a new and different Carthage or by the same power which sank beneath the waves and now lies buried in the boundless deep near the Aegatian islands.”

  Thus he spoke, and turned his march aside to the river Ticinus. That crystal river keeps its pools of blue water free from all stain above its shallow bed, and slowly draws along its fair stream of greenish hue. One would scarce believe it was moving; so softly along its shady banks, while the birds sing sweet in rivalry, it leads along in a shining flood its waters that tempt to sleep.

  And now night was ending and the darkness departing; dawn was near and Sleep had completed his allotted hours, when the consul made ready to examine the ground and ascertain the character of the neighbouring hill and plains. Hannibal had the same intention, and the same anxiety filled his heart. So the two came near, escorted by speedy squadrons of horsemen.

  But when the rising cloud of dust showed that the enemy were on the march, and the earth rang with the sound of hoofs coming ever nearer, and at the same time the trumpet was drowned by the eager neighing of the horses, then both leaders called upon their troops: “To arms, my men! to arms with speed!” Each had the same restless valour, and the same thirst for glory, and they were kindred spirits in their passion for war and battle.

  There was no delay. Soon the combatants were separated only by as much ground as a lance sped by a thong can cover, when suddenly all eyes and thoughts were turned to the sky by a portent appearing in the clear and cloudless heavens. A hawk, flying from the sun in his meridian, was fiercely assailing a flock of the birds that are dear to Venus and owe their fame to the favour of Dione; now with talons, now with beak, and now with fierce buffeting of his wings, he had cruelly wounded and slain fifteen victims. Nor did he stop, satisfied: his eagerness for a fresh victim grew, and he pressed hard on the last dove, while she wavered in her flight with flagging wing, terrified by the slaughter of the rest. But now an eagle, coming up from the East, forced the hawk at last to fly for refuge to the unsubstantial clouds. Then the undefeated dove turned and flew gladly towards the Roman standards and the place where the general’s son, Scipio, was brandishing shining weapons with his childish strength; then, when she had uttered her note thrice and pecked at the plume of the boy’s glittering helmet, she went back to the sky.

  A cry came from Liger — he was skilled to perceive the warnings of heaven and to foretell the future by watching the birds:—” Hannibal, you, like that bold bird, for twice eight years shall pursue the men of Rome in the land of Italy, and shall carry off much booty and shed much blood. But restrain your threats; for, lo! the armour-bearer of Jupiter withholds from you the realm of Daunus. I recognize thy hand, O mightiest of the gods. Be present, O Father, and confirm the omen of thy bird! For, unless the eagle is false to the gods and his flight means nothing, it is reserved for this boy to seal the fate of conquered Libya, and to gain a name greater than that of Carthage.”

  Bogus, on the other hand, prophesied good fortune to Hannibal: the hawk was a favourable sign, and the slaughter of birds in the sky foretold disaster to the Aeneadae, the descendants of Venus. Then, to suit his words, he hurled the first spear against the foe, as if prompted by heaven and aware of coming events. The weapon flew far over the empty space of the spreading plain, and distance would have robbed it of its effect, but for the desire of Catus to reap glory in the first battle. He galloped forward with loosened rein and drove his horse’s head to meet it; and so the spear, when flagging in its course and ready to fall, found the mark it sought and received from the enemy power to kill; it lodged between the temples of the brow that courted death.

  The armies advance at speed, and a mighty noise spreads over the field when all the riders raise their horses’ heads high with the bridle and then urge them forward; rearing aloft, the chargers then rush on and in their stormy flight over the plain leave hardly a trace of their hoof-prints on the dusty surface. A swift squadron of Boii, commanded by Crixus, takes the lead, dashing against the front rank of Romans, and blocking the way with their giant bodies. Crixus himself, proud of his ancestry, claimed descent from Brennus, and the taking of the Capitol was one of his titles to fame. Poor fool! he displayed on his shield the Gauls weighing the gold on the sacred eminence of the Tarpeian hill. A golden collar glittered on his snow-white neck; his garments were striped -with gold, with gold his gauntlets were stiff, and his helmet-crest sparkled with the same metal.

  Their fearful charge struck and overthrew the men of Camerium in the front rank, and the Boii rushed over the close-packed spears like crowding waves; and the accursed Senones joined them and swelled their ranks; and men’s bodies, shattered by the chests of the horses, tumble over all the plain. The ground is drenched; pools of blood, from men and horses, swallow up the slippery footprints of the fighting squadron. The heavy hoof kills outright those who are half-dead already; and the horses, as they ride round, scatter on the ground a hideous dew of blood, and the armour of the poor wretches is drenched with their own gore. The first victorious javelin was thrown by proud Pelorus, and stained by the red life-blood of young Tyrrhenus. For, while he blew his horn, to stir the soldiers’ hearts and kindle their courage for battle, and to make them face fresh wounds by his music, the barbarian’s weapon stuck fast in his windpipe and stopped with a deadly wound the hoarse murmur of the horn. Yet the last music that came from his dying lips trickled through the curved instrument, after the lips themselves were dumb. Crixus slew Picens and Laurus, but not both from a distance; for Laurus fell by the sword, but Picens was slain by a polished spear, once cut on the banks of the Po. For, when Picens tried to turn aside and sought to elude his foe by wheeling to the left, the terrible spear pierced at the same time the rider’s thigh and the unprotected belly of the flying steed, inflicting a double death. Crixus also plucked his weapon from the gory neck of Venulus and, while it was still warm, laid low Farfarus with it, and Tullus who was reared near cold Velinus — a proud boast of Italy he would have been and a famous name, if the Fates had granted him longer life or the Carthaginians had adhered to the treaty. Next Crixus slew Remulus, and warriors whose names were once famous in arms — the Magii of Tibur, Metaurus of Hispellum, and Clanius, — and aimed his blow with a spear which doubted whom to strike.

  The Carthaginians had no room for fighting, because the furious Gauls filled all the field; not one of them hurled his weapon in vain; every missile was planted in the body of a foe. And now Quirinius, to whom flight was a thing unknown, and whose dauntless heart chose death with wounds in front, when the battle went against them, showed mighty daring, while those around him trembled. He spurred his horse with his spear-point and hurled javelins with his strong arm, hoping to clear a passage and burst his way by the steel to Crixus. Assured of death, he sought with might and main the glory he could never hope to enjoy. Teutalus, pierced in the groin, fell before him, and the earth shook under his huge weight; and Sarmens next, who vowed, if victorious, to offer to Mars his yellow locks — the hair that rivalled gol
d — and the ruddy topknot on the crown of his head. But his vow was unheard, and the Fates drew him down to the shades below with his locks unshorn; the steaming blood drenched his white limbs, and the soaked earth turned red. But now Ligaunus, undeterred by the javelin that met him, rushed on and whirled his sword full in face of Quirinius, rising to his full height as he struck; and the left arm, where the tough muscles attach the limb to the shoulder, was cut off by the blow; for a space it hung dying over the slackened reins, and the quivering hand, while it felt again with feeble effort for the bridle, imitated unwittingly the familiar gesture of the horseman. Then Vosegus cut off his head from behind, and carried off the helmet hanging by its plume with the dead man’s head inside it, and hailed his gods with the war-cry of his nation.

  While the Gallic tribes dealt death thus over the field, the consul summoned his troops in hot haste from their camp, and charged foremost against the foe, borne aloft on his white steed. Behind him came the soldiers, chosen from every part of fertile Italy — Marsians and men of Cora, the pride of Laurentum and the Sabine throwers of javelins, the hill-dwellers of Tuder who worship Mars, and with them the men of Falerii who wear the flaxen stuff of their country; the men who were bred by the orchards of Catillus, dwellers by the Anio, where the stream runs silent under the walls of Hercules; and the men sent forth by the misty fields of Casinum and by the Hernician rocks, where the people are made hardy by their icy streams. Thus the children of the ruling land went forth to battle; but heaven had condemned them, Italy. and the army was doomed never to return. Scipio urged his steed to where the central whirlpool of battle was swallowing up the fighters; then, infuriated by the carnage of his men, he slaughtered, as offerings to the dead, Labarus and Padus and Caunus and Brucus, scarcely laid low with many a wound, and Larus, as he rolled his eyes with the stare of a Gorgon. Cruel too was the doom by which brave Leponticus fell. For when he boldly threw himself in the consul’s way, catching hold of the reins, and, though on foot, reaching up to the level of the rider’s face, down came the heavy sword on the centre of his forehead, and the head, split in two, fell upon the shoulders. Then Batus, while he fought madly against Scipio’s horse and warded off attacks with his shield, was stretched on the yellow sand by a blow from the steed, and his face was crushed out of recognition by the stamping hoofs. Thus the Roman general raged over the troubled plain, like the Thracian North-wind, when in his might he has stirred up from the bottom the whole Icarian sea; ships are wrecked, and seamen scattered and tossed on the mighty deep; and all the Cyclades are drenched with the foaming flood.