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And stirred the blood that ran in Brutus' veins

       Moving the youth to action in the war.

      Soon as the sun dispelled the chilly night,

       The sounding doors flew wide, and from the tomb

       Of dead Hortensius grieving Marcia came (14).

       First joined in wedlock to a greater man

       Three children did she bear to grace his home:

       Then Cato to Hortensius gave the dame

       To be a fruitful mother of his sons

       And join their houses in a closer tie.

       And now the last sad offices were done

       She came with hair dishevelled, beaten breast,

       And ashes on her brow, and features worn

       With grief; thus only pleasing to the man.

       "When youth was in me and maternal power

       I did thy bidding, Cato, and received

       A second husband: now in years grown old

       Ne'er to be parted I return to thee.

       Renew our former pledges undefiled:

       Give back the name of wife: upon my tomb

       Let 'Marcia, spouse to Cato,' be engraved.

       Nor let men question in the time to come,

       Did'st thou compel, or did I willing leave

       My first espousals. Not in happy times,

       Partner of joys, I come; but days of care

       And labour shall be mine to share with thee.

       Nor leave me here, but take me to the camp,

       Thy fond companion: why should Magnus' wife

       Be nearer, Cato, to the wars than thine?"

      Although the times were warlike and the fates

       Called to the fray, he lent a willing ear.

       Yet must they plight their faith in simple form

       Of law; their witnesses the gods alone.

       No festal wreath of flowers crowned the gate

       Nor glittering fillet on each post entwined;

       No flaming torch was there, nor ivory steps,

       No couch with robes of broidered gold adorned;

       No comely matron placed upon her brow

       The bridal garland, or forbad the foot (15)

       To touch the threshold stone; no saffron veil

       Concealed the timid blushes of the bride;

       No jewelled belt confined her flowing robe (16)

       Nor modest circle bound her neck; no scarf

       Hung lightly on the snowy shoulder's edge

       Around the naked arm. Just as she came,

       Wearing the garb of sorrow, while the wool

       Covered the purple border of her robe,

       Thus was she wedded. As she greets her sons

       So doth she greet her husband. Festal games

       Graced not their nuptials, nor were friends and kin

       As by the Sabines bidden: silent both

       They joined in marriage, yet content, unseen

       By any save by Brutus. Sad and stern

       On Cato's lineaments the marks of grief

       Were still unsoftened, and the hoary hair

       Hung o'er his reverend visage; for since first

       Men flew to arms, his locks were left unkempt

       To stream upon his brow, and on his chin

       His beard untended grew. 'Twas his alone

       Who hated not, nor loved, for all mankind

       To mourn alike. Nor did their former couch

       Again receive them, for his lofty soul

       E'en lawful love resisted. 'Twas his rule

       Inflexible, to keep the middle path

       Marked out and bounded; to observe the laws

       Of natural right; and for his country's sake

       To risk his life, his all, as not for self

       Brought into being, but for all the world:

       Such was his creed. To him a sumptuous feast

       Was hunger conquered, and the lowly hut,

       Which scarce kept out the winter, was a home

       Equal to palaces: a robe of price

       Such hairy garments as were worn of old:

       The end of marriage, offspring. To the State

       Father alike and husband, right and law

       He ever followed with unswerving step:

       No thought of selfish pleasure turned the scale

       In Cato's acts, or swayed his upright soul.

      Meanwhile Pompeius led his trembling host

       To fields Campanian, and held the walls

       First founded by the chief of Trojan race (17).

       These chose he for the central seat of war,

       Some troops despatching who might meet the foe

       Where shady Apennine lifts up the ridge

       Of mid Italia; nearest to the sky

       Upsoaring, with the seas on either hand,

       The upper and the lower. Pisa's sands

       Breaking the margin of the Tuscan deep,

       Here bound his mountains: there Ancona's towers

       Laved by Dalmatian waves. Rivers immense,

       In his recesses born, pass on their course,

       To either sea diverging. To the left

       Metaurus, and Crustumium's torrent, fall

       And Sena's streams and Aufidus who bursts

       On Adrian billows; and that mighty flood

       Which, more than all the rivers of the earth,

       Sweeps down the soil and tears the woods away

       And drains Hesperia's springs. In fabled lore

       His banks were first by poplar shade enclosed: (18)

       And when by Phaethon the waning day

       Was drawn in path transverse, and all the heaven

       Blazed with his car aflame, and from the depths

       Of inmost earth were rapt all other floods,

       Padus still rolled in pride of stream along.

       Nile were no larger, but that o'er the sand

       Of level Egypt he spreads out his waves;

       Nor Ister, if he sought the Scythian main

       Unhelped upon his journey through the world

       By tributary waters not his own.

       But on the right hand Tiber has his source,

       Deep-flowing Rutuba, Vulturnus swift,

       And Sarnus breathing vapours of the night

       Rise there, and Liris with Vestinian wave

       Still gliding through Marica's shady grove,

       And Siler flowing through Salernian meads:

       And Macra's swift unnavigable stream

       By Luna lost in Ocean.

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