Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - Vol. Ii. (War - Weaving) Poem by Henry Baker

War Declar'd.

Two Gates of War there stand (so call'd their Name)
Tremendously Religious, by the Dread
Of horrid Mars: an hundred brazen Bolts,
And everlasting Iron's solid Strength
Secures them: Nor does Janus ever cease
To guard the Portal. Here, when certain War
The Fathers by their Sentence have decreed,
The Consul clad in his Quirinal Gown,
And rich Gabinian Robe, himself unlocks
The jarring Doors: Himself calls forth the Fight:
Then all the Forces follow: And at once
In shrill Assent the brazen Trumpets sound.


War (Civil.)
See Discord.

Lo! from the Earth the mild and gentle Train
Of Deities departs, and leaves Mankind
To sure and dreadful Desolation doom'd.
Peace leads the Way, and beats her snowy Arms,
Within her Helmet hides her vanquish'd Head,
And flies affrighted to th' Elysian Shades.
On her inviolable Faith attends,
And mournful Justice with dishevel'd Hair,
And Concord wailing, with her Garments torn.
But Hell, with Joy, unbolts it's brazen Doors,
And all it's Furies quit the Stygian Court:
Threat'ning Bellona with Erynnis joyns,
And dire Megaera arm'd with flaming Brands.
Pale Death, insidious Fraud, and Massacre,
With Rage burst forth, who, from his Fetters freed,
Lifts high his gory Head: a Helmet hides
His Visage scarr'd with Wounds: his left Hand grasps
The Shield of Mars, horrid with countless Darts,
Whilst in his Right a flaming Torch appears,
To light Destruction, and to fire the World.--

Their ancient Friends, as now they nearer drew,
Prepar'd for Fight the wond'ring Soldiers knew:
Brother with Brother in unnat'ral Strife,
And the Son arm'd against the Father's Life.
Curst Civil--War! then Conscience first was felt,
And the tough Veteran's Heart began to melt.

Pity awhile their Hands from Slaughter kept,
Inward they groan'd, and as they drew, they wept:
But ev'ry Blow their wav'ring Rage assures,
In Murder hardens, and to Blood inures.
Crowds charge on Crowds, nor Friends their Friends descry,
But Sires by Sons, and Sons by Fathers die.--

Dissembled Hate and Rancour rang'd at Will:
All, as they pleas'd, took Liberty to kill:
And while Revenge no longer fear'd the Laws,
Each private Murder was the public Cause.
The Leader bad destroy: and, at the Word,
The Master fell beneath the Servant's Sword.
Brothers on Brothers were for Gifts bestow'd,
And Sons contended for their Father's Blood.
For Refuge some to Caves and Forests fled:
Some to the lonely Mansions of the Dead:
Some, to prevent the cruel Victor, die:
These strangled hang from fatal Beams on high:
While those, from Tops of lofty Turrets thrown,
Came headlong on the dashing Pavement down.--

Now either Host the middle Plain had pass'd,
And Front to Front in threat'ning Ranks were plac'd:
Then ev'ry well known Feature stood to View,
Brothers their Brothers, Sons their Fathers knew.
Then first they feel the Curse of Civil Hate,
Mark where their Mischiefs are assign'd by Fate,
And see from whom themselves Destruction wait.
Stupid a--while, and at a Gaze they stood,
While creeping Horror froze the lazy Blood:
Some small Remains of Piety withstand,
And stop the Javelin in the lifted Hand:
Remorse for one short Moment step'd between,
And motionless, as Statues, all were seen.--

Forbear such Wars, my Children, O forbear!
Nor sheath your dreaded Country's conqu'ring Swords
Within your Country's Bowels.--

These ruin'd Monuments are not defac'd
By all--destroying Time: that We behold
So many Cities, desolate, and waste,
Is owing to the Guilt of Civil War.
To what small Number now has that reduc'd
Mankind! not all our Offspring can suffice
To fill the Towns, or cultivate the Lands.--


Warrior.
See Hero.

When Turnus saw Æneas from the Field
Retiring, and the Trojan Chiefs confus'd:
Fir'd with new Hope, he suddenly demands
His Arms, and Horses: vaults with haughty Bound
Into his Car, and guides the flowing Reins.
Many brave Warriors in his swift Career
He gives to Death: rolls many on the Ground
Half dead: or drives his Chariot o'er their Troops;
Or plies their Backs with Jav'lins in their Flight.
As when, enrag'd, near frozen Hebrus' Stream,
Mars clashes on his Shield, and wakes the War,
And to his foaming Coursers gives the Reins:
They, in the open Field, outfly the Winds,
Notus, and Zephyrus: beneath their Feet
The Thracian Confines groan: and round him throng
Fury, and Stratagem, and pale Dismay,
The dire Retinue of th' ensanguin'd God.
So Turnus, thro' the Middle of the Fight,
Exulting, lashes on his fiery Steeds
Smoking with Sweat: and (dreadful to behold!)
Tramples his prostrate Foes: the rapid Hoofs
Scatter the gory Dew all sprinkled round,
And spurn thick Clots of mingled Sand and Blood.--

And now the Courser on his Back receives
Th' accustom'd Load: He settles in the Seat,
And both his Hands with pointed Jav'lins fills:
His brazen Helmet glitters on his Head,
And nods the waving Crest of Horses Mane.
Thus arm'd, with rapid Haste into the Midst
Furious he rides: Within his Bosom boils
Disdainful Shame, and Grief to Madness wrought,
And Love inflam'd with Rage, and conscious Worth.--

But by Jove's Impulse fierce Mezentius fir'd
Mean while succeeds to Battle, and invades
The conqu'ring Trojans. All the Tyrrhene Bands
Assemble: Him alone with mortal Hate
United, and with Storms of Darts they press.
He, like a Rock, which o'er the Ocean wide
Hangs prominent, expos'd to Winds and Waves,
And all the Rage of Sea and Sky endures,
Stands fix'd, unmov'd.--


Weather. Prognostics.

E'er Winds arise:--Or, swells the working Flood:
Or, a harsh Crash is heard throughout the Wood:
Or, mingling, sound the Coasts from distant Seas,
And gathering Murmur rustles in the Trees.
Then scarce the Wave from bended Skiffs abstains,
When Cormorants forsake the watry Plains,
And scream along the Shore: when swift to Land
The Sea--gulls haste, and sport along the Strand:
Or, when the Hern prepares his lofty Flight,
Quits the known Marsh, and mounts th' Etherial Height.
Oft too, you'll see, when furious Winds impend,
Precipitate, the Stars from Heav'n descend;
And far behind, thro' gloomy Shades of Night,
Glitter, and whiten the long Trails of Light:
Oft whirl in Air dry Straw, and with'ring Leaves,
And Feathers wanton on the simm'ring Waves.

But from the North when flashing Lightnings fly,
And East, and Westward, Thunder rends the Sky:
Then with the swelling Dykes swims all the Plain:
Then ev'ry Seaman, on the foaming Main,
Quick gathers up the Sails all drench'd with Rain.
None, uninform'd, e'er did the Show'r assail:
Cranes, as it rose, flew downwards to the Vale:
Or, gazing on the Heavens stood the Steer,
And with wide Nostrils snuff'd the humid Air:
Or, Swallows, chatt'ring, round the Lake have flown,
And miry Frogs sung out their antient Moan.
And oftner has the Ant with busy Tread,
Up from the Nether--Cells her Eggs convey'd:
Deep drank the mighty Bow: and foodless rose
Loud, with their rustling Wings, a Host of Crows.
Now may you see wide Ocean's various Fowls,
And those that haunt Cayster's well--lov'd Pools,
In wanton Strife the Silver--Flood divide,
And lave their Shoulders with the sparkling Tide:
Now with their downy Breasts the Torrent stem:
Now plunge their Heads: now run upon the Stream:
With endless Labour ply the watry Plain,
And dive, and wash, and proudly wash in vain.
Then, with full Voice the Rook the Show'r demands,
And solitary stalks along the thirsty Sands.
Nor is unskilful of impending Storms
The Virgin, nightly, that her Task performs:
When sparkling in the Lamp the Oyl she sees,
And fungous Balls around the Wick increase.

Nor from less certain Signs mayst Thou descry
Unshowery Suns, and an expanded Sky.
Then keen the Stars appear: nor, rising, seems
The Moon a Debtor to her Brother's Beams:
Then do the wafting Winds no longer bear
The fleecy Flakes; serene and still the Air:
Nor to the tepid Sun their Wings expand,
The Sea--lov'd Halcyons, basking on the Strand:
Nor mindful are the Swine, with Jaws display'd,
To gripe the Straw, and toss their rustling Bed:
But downwards glides the Mist, and lodges on the Mead:
And Owls, still waiting on the Sun's Retreat,
In vain their Midnight Songs aloft repeat.
Then, thrice, or four times, firmly prest the Throat,
The Rooks redouble every clearer Note:
Gay, with I know not what unusual Joys,
They crowd the Trees, and chatt'ring is their Noise.
What dear Delight possesses every Breast,
When each beholds, soon as the Storms are ceas'd,
Her tender Young once more, and pleasing Nest.
Not that I think the Gods to them dispense
Of Things in Fate a more discerning Sense:
But when the Storm, and moist inconstant Skies
Alternate Change: when southern Tempests rise,
Condense what's thin, and what's condens'd more rare
By Warmth becomes, they vary with the Air:
Now one Impression in their Bosoms dwells,
Another when the Wind the Clouds dispels:
Hence from the Birds that warbling Concert flows:
Hence Herds exult, and hoarsely shout the Crows.

But to the rapid Sun if You attend,
And how the Moons their following Courses bend,
You'll ne'er be taken by th' ensuing Day,
Nor shall fair Nights, insiduous, Thee betray.
When first the Moon collects the coming Rays,
If she thick Air in her dark Horn displays,
Vast Show'rs invade the Peasant and the Seas:
But if a Virgin Blush her Face o'er--spread,
Winds blow:--with Wind still Phoebe's Cheeks are red:
But at her fourth Ascent if pointed rise
The silver Horns, and bright she trips the Skies,
That Day entire, and all it's following Race,
Till fully, she compleats her monthly Space,
(Safe by this Sign) nor Storms shall know, nor Rain:
And Sailors; rescu'd from the boist'rous Main,
Their promis'd Vows shall pay to all the watry Reign.

And thus the Sun, as Rising he appears,
Or dipt in Ocean, various Signs declares:
Unerring Signs his circling Course attend,
Or in the Morn, or when the Stars ascend.
Whene'er he mottles o'er his new--born Light,
Or masks in Clouds, or half retires from Sight,
Suspect the Show'r: For, fatal to the Sown,
And Trees, and Herds, the South comes pouring down.
If, at the purple Dawn, his struggling Rays
Strike thro' the thick'ning Skies a scatter'd Blaze:
If, o'er her Cheeks a livid Paleness shed,
Aurora springs from Tithon's saffron Bed:
Ah! what can Leaves to guard the Grapes avail?
So rattling bounds on Roofs the horrid Hail!
But, from Olympus, just as he slides down,
'Twould profit more to have observ'd the Sun.
Oft o'er his Face are diff'rent Colours spread:
Thick Rains the Azure, Winds denote the Red:
But intermingled if the Spots appear
With shining Flame, then Winds and Clouds prepare
With equal Rage, an universal War:
That Night let none to venture on the Sea,
Or to untie the Cable, counsel me.
But if his Orb all lucid shines, and gay,
When forth he leads, and when he hides the Day,
Fear not the Storm: You'll see the northern Breeze
Slide thro' the Grove, and gently move the Trees.
Lastly, to what the Ev'ning is inclin'd,
From whence shall come the Cloud--dispelling Wind,
And of the humid South the secret Mind,
The Sun to You repeated Tokens gives:
And who dares say that e'er the Sun deceives?--


Weaving.

Strait to their Posts appointed, both repair
And fix their threaded Looms with equal Care:
Around the solid Beam the Web is ty'd,
While hollow Canes the parting Warp divide:
Thro' which with nimble Flight, the Shuttles play,
And for the Woof prepare a ready Way:
The Woof and Warp divide, prest by the toothy Slay.
Now both, their Mantles button'd to their Breast,
Their dextrous Fingers ply with eager Haste,
And work with Pleasure: while they chear the Eye
With glowing Purple of the Tyrian Dye:
Or, justly intermixing Shades with Light,
Insensibly their Colourings unite.
As when a Shower transpierc'd with sunny Rays,
It's mighty Arch along the Heav'ns displays,
From whence a thousand diff'rent Colours rise,
Whose fine Transition cheats the clearest Eyes,
So like the intermingled Shading seems,
And only differs in the last Extreams.
Then Threads of Gold both artfully dispose,
And, as each Part in just Proportion rose,
Some antique Fable in their Work disclose.--

With Skill exact a Phrygian Web she strung,
Fix'd to a Loom that in her Chamber hung,
Where in--wrought Letters upon White display'd,
In purple Notes the cruel Act betray'd.—