Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - Vol. Ii. (Shout - Siege) Poem by Henry Baker

Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - Vol. Ii. (Shout - Siege)



Shout.
See Battle.

Now all the ready Legions vow to join
Their Chief belov'd, in ev'ry bold Design:
All lift their well--approving Hands on high,
And rend with Peals of loud Applause the Sky.
Such is the Sound, when Thracian Boreas spreads
His weighty Wings o'er Ossa's piny Heads:
At once the noisy Groves are all inclin'd,
And, bending, roar beneath the sweeping Wind:
At once their rattling Branches All they rear,
And drive the leafy Clamour thro' the Air.--

As when the Winds, against the rocky Shore
The Billows drive, or make the Forests roar:
So loud the Shout, when rich and strangely drest
The Player comes, they clap his gawdy Vest.
Well, hath the Actor spoken? Not a Line:
Why then d'ye clap? Oh, Sir, his Cloths are fine.--

A Shout ascending beats the golden Stars,
Immense.--


Sibyl.
See Oracle.

You'll see the Sibyl in her rocky Cave,
And hear the furious Maid divinely rave.
The dark Decrees of Fate the Virgin sings,
And writes on Leaves, Names, Characters, and Things.
The mystic Numbers in the Cavern laid,
Are rang'd in order by the sacred Maid:
There they repose in Ranks along the Floor:
At length a casual Wind unfolds the Door:
The casual Wind disorders the Decrees,
And the loose Fates are scatter'd by the Breeze.
She scorns to range them, and again unite
The fleeting Scrolls, or stop their airy Flight.
Then back retreat the disappointed Train,
And curse the Sibyl they consult in vain.

But Thou, more wise, thy purpos'd Course delay,
Tho' thy rash Friends should summon Thee away:
And wait with Patience, tho' the flatt'ring Gales
Sing in thy Shrowds, and fill thy op'ning Sails.
With suppliant Pray'rs intreat her to relate,
In vocal Accents all thy various Fate.--

But good Æneas to the tow'ring Fane
Repairs, o'er which Apollo high presides:
And to the spacious Cavern, where retir'd
The venerable Sibyl dwells: to whom
Prophetick Delius an extensive Soul
And Mind inspires, and future Things reveals.--

--Cut deep in the Euboean Rock
A Roomy Cave descended: whither lead
An hundred Entrances of wide Extent,
An hundred Mouths: whence rush as many Sounds,
The Sibyl's Oracles. And now they reach'd
The Portal: When the Virgin, 'Tis the Time
Now to enquire the Doom of Fate: Behold,
The God, the God, she cry'd.--While thus she spoke,
Before the Doors, her Looks, her Colour chang'd,
Sudden: Her Hair in wild Confusion rose:
Enthusiastic Fury heav'd her Breast,
And throbbing Heart: More large her Form appear'd:
Nor spoke she mortal Accents: when inspir'd
By the more present God. Dost thou delay,
Trojan Æneas, thy Requests, and Vows?
Dost thou delay? She cry'd: For not till then
The trembling Fane will open wide it's Mouths.
This said, she silent stood: A chilling Fear
Ran thro' the hardy Trojan's Bones.--
--Impatient in her Grot

Apollo's swelling Priestest wildly raves:
Reluctant, lab'ring from her Breast to heave
Th' incumbent God: So much the more he curbs
Her foamy Mouth, subdues her madding Heart,
And pressing forms her. Now spontaneous fly
Wide ope the Cavern's hundred spacious Mouths,
And waft her Oracles into the Air.--

The Sibyl backward turns her aweful Eyes:
And, I no Goddess am, with Sighs replies:
Your Incense spare, and Attributes of Praise,
Nor to the Rank of Gods a mortal raise.
Yet know, that I like Gods had never dy'd,
Would I with Phoebus' Passion have comply'd:
Who, while he woo'd me to his scorn'd Embrace,
And offer'd high to tempt me to Disgrace,
Ask what Thou wilt, Cumaean Fair, said He:
Thou shalt enjoy thy Wish, whate'er it be.
I snatch'd a Heap of Sand, and wish'd to bear,
For ev'ry numb'red Grain I grasp'd, a Year.
Forgetful that I was, to wish not too,
That I my Youth might ev'ry Year renew!
Perpetual Youth, and still unfading Charms,
The God had giv'n, would I have fill'd his Arms.
His Gifts despis'd, a single Life I led,
Nor deign'd the God the Honour of my Bed.

But now those happy blooming Days are gone,
And crazy Age with trembling Steps comes on:
Sev'n Ages have I liv'd: and live I must,
Till I in Years can score those Grains of Dust.
Three hundred circling Springs, and Autumns still
Remain behind, the vast Amount to fill.
The Time shall come, when Age and long Decay
Will shrink the Substance of this mould'ring Clay:
Then none shall think I e'er had Charms to fire
A God, or be an Object of Desire.
Such Change shall I endure, he will not know,
Or will deny that once he lov'd me so.
No Eye shall see me: yet a Voice alone,
The Fates will grant, by which I shall be known.--


Siege. Assault.
See City Taken.

He, turbulent in Ire, surveys the Walls
This Way, and That, and on his lofty Steed
The Passes inaccessible explores.
Doubtful which Post to try, and how to draw
The Trojans from their Trenches to the Field.

All this the Trojans, from their lofty Mounds
Trembling beheld, and man their Works in Arms:
With anxious Fear the guarded Gates explore,
And join the Battlements with Bridges laid.

Turnus excites the Soldiery to Arms,
Himself in Arms: All marshall for the Fight
Their brazen Squadrons: and with various Talk
Exasperated, whet each other's Rage.
The hardy Trojans on the left Hand Walls
(A River guards the Right,) oppose their War:
Within their roomy Trenches range their Line,
And, anxious, on the high--built Turrets stand.

Strait the loud Trumpet's Brass with dire Alarm
Sounds shrill from far; a thund'ring Shout succeeds:
And Heav'n's high Vault rebellows to the Noise.
The Volscians, by a Canopy of Shields
Protected, forwards rush, prepare to fill
The Trenches, and to level with the Plain
The Bulwarks rais'd. Some, viewing round, explore
The Passes: and attempt to scale the Walls,
Where by thin Ranks less guarded they appear.
The Trojans opposite, by lasting Siege
Long since experienc'd in defensive War,
Pour ev'ry kind of Weapons: push them back
With spiky Poles, and tumble from above
Vast rocky Fragments of pernicious Weight:
If possible to break the Roof of Shields
Which hides the Troop: Yet They all Dangers chuse
Beneath their iron Tortoise to sustain.
Not long: for where the thickest Globe of Foes
Crouds to the Walls, the Trojans from their Works
Roll down a Millstone of prodigious Size:
Which crush'd the Rutuli, and far and wide
Burst thro' the Cov'ring which their Armour form'd.

A Tow'r there stood, commodious and aloft
With Bridges rais'd, which all th' Italians strove
With utmost Force and Efforts to o'erturn:
To them oppos'd the Trojans pour a Storm
Of Stones, and thro' the Loop--holes shoot their Darts.
First Turnus, in the Van, a Firebrand threw,
And fix'd the flaming Mischief to it's Side:
Which, rising with the Wind, the Timber seiz'd,
And, sticking to the Lintels, eat it's Way.
Confus'd within They tremble, and in vain
Attempt to fly the Ruin.--While they throng
Huddled in Heaps, and to that Part retire,
Which from the Pest is free: Down sudden falls
The Tow'r: and Heav'n all thunders with the Noise.

A Shout thro' all the Works and Ramparts ran:
Eager they bend their Bows, and whirl their Slings:
The Ground all stuck with Darts, the hollow Casks
And Targets in the Shock of Conflict ring:
The Combat thickens, like a Storm that flies
From Westward, when the show'ry Kids arise.--

--They all in Emulation strive,
And form a Wedge, and rushing storm the Walls.
Ladders at once, and sudden Fire appears.
Some to the Gates advance, and kill the first
Who obvious stand: some hurl the missive Steel
In Storms of Shafts, and darken all the Sky.--

Among the trembling Citizens within
Wild Discord reigns: some press to ope the Gates
Wide to the Trojans, and the King himself
Drag to the Walls: some resolute in Arms
Sustain the Combat, and defend the Town.--

On rolling Wheels they raise a lofty Tow'r,
Whence on the Walls a Storm of Darts they pour.
Nor with less active Rage the Grecians burn:
But larger Ruin on their Foes return.
Nor Hands alone the missile Deaths supply,
From strong--spring'd Cross--Bows whistling Arrows fly:
The steely Corslet and the Bones they break,
Thro' Multitudes their fatal Journeys take,
Nor wait the ling'ring Parcoe's slow Delay,
But wound, and to new Slaughter wing their Way.

Now, by some vast Machine, a pond'rous Stone,
Pernicious, from the hostile Wall is thrown:
At once, on many, swift the Shock descends,
And the crush'd Carcasses confounding blends.
So rolls some falling Rock by Age long worn,
Loose from it's Root by raging Whirlwinds torn,
And, thund'ring down the Precipice is born:
O'er crashing Woods the Mass is seen to ride,
It's Way it grinds, and plains the Mountain's Side.

Gall'd with the Shot from far, the Legions join;
Their Bucklers in the warlike Shell combine:
Compact and close the brazen Roof they bear,
And in just Order to the Walls draw near.
Safe they advance, while with unweary'd Pain,
The wrathful Engines waste their Stores in vain:
High o'er their Heads the destin'd Deaths are toss'd,
And far behind in vacant Earth are lost.
Nor sudden could they change their erring Aim,
Slow, and unweildy moves the cumbrous Frame.

This seen, the Greeks their brawny Arms employ,
And hurl a stony Tempest from on high:
The clatt'ring Show'r the sounding Fence assails,
In vain, as when the stormy Winter hails,
Nor on the solid Roof at all prevails.
But; tir'd at length, the Warriors fall their Shields,
And, spent with Toil, the broken Phalanx yields.

Now other Stratagems the War supplies,
Beneath the Vinea close th' Assailant lies:
The strong Machine, with Planks and Turf bespread,
Moves to the Walls it's well--defended Head:
Within the Covert safe the Miners lurk,
And to the deep Foundation urge their Work.
Now justly pois'd the thund'ring Ram they sling,
And drive him forceful with a launching Spring:
Hoping to loose some yielding Part at length,
And shake the firm cemented Bulwark's Strength.
But, from the Town, the sturdy Youth prepare
With hardy Vigour to repel the War:
Crouding they gather on the Rampart's Height,
And with tough Staves, and Spears, maintain the Fight:
Darts, Fragments of the Rock, and Flames they throw,
And tear the planky Shelter fix'd below:
Around by all the warring Tempest beat,
The baffled Romans sullenly retreat.

Now by Success the brave Massilians fir'd,
To Fame of higher Enterprize aspir'd:
Nor longer with their Walls Defence content,
In daring Sallies they the Foe prevent.
Nor arm'd with Swords, nor pointed Spears they go,
Nor aim the Shaft, nor bend the deadly Bow:
Fierce Mulciber supplies the bold Design,
And for their Weapons kindling Torches shine.
Silent they issue thro' the gloomy Night,
And with broad Shields restrain the beamy Light.
Sudden the Blaze on ev'ry Side began,
And o'er the Latian Works resistless ran:
Catching, and driving with the Wind it grows,
Fierce thro' the Shade the burning Deluge glows:
Nor Earth, nor greener Planks it's Force delay,
Swift o'er the hissing Beams it rolls away.
Embrown'd with Smoke the wavy Flames ascend,
Shiver'd with Heat the crackling Quarries rend;
Till with a Roar, at last, the mighty Mound,
Tow'rs, Engines, all, come thund'ring to the Ground.
Wide--spread the discontinuous Ruins lie,
And vast Confusion fills the Gazer's Eye.—

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