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P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses (ed. Arthur Golding) 2 0 Browse Search
M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley) 2 0 Browse Search
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M. Annaeus Lucanus, Pharsalia (ed. Sir Edward Ridley), book 7, line 728 (search)
e, nor calm of night Banish their fears, he bids his cohorts dash, While Fortune glowed and terror filled the plain, Straight on the ramparts of the conquered foe. Light was the task to urge them to the spoil Though worn by battle, wearied with the fray: Soldiers,' he said, ' the victory is ours, Full and triumphant: there doth lie the prize Which you have won, not Caesar; at your feet Behold the booty of the hostile camp. Snatched from Hesperian nations ruddy gold, And all the riches of the Orient world, Are piled within the tents. The wealth of kings And of Pompeius here awaits its lords. Haste, soldiers, and outstrip the flying foe; E'en now the vanquished of Pharsalia's field Anticipate your spoils.' No more he said, But drave them, blind with frenzy for the gold, To spurn the bodies of their fallen sires, And trample chiefs in dashing on their prey. What rampart had restrained them as they rushed To seize the prize for wickedness and war And learn the price of guilt? And though th