agmina privatis ibant famulantia signis; ipse inter medios, ne qua de parte relinquat barbariem, revocat fulvas in pectora pelles frenaque et inmanes pharetras arcusque sonoros 80 adsimulat mentemque palam proclamat amictu, nec pudet Ausonios currus et iura regentem sumere deformes ritus vestemque Getarum; insignemque habitum Latii mutare coactae maerent captivae pellito iudice leges. 85 Quis populi tum vultus erat! quae murmura furtim! (nam miseris ne flere quidem aut lenire dolorem colloquiis impune licet): “quonam usque feremus exitiale iugum? durae quis terminus umquam sortis erit? quis nos funesto turbine rerum 90 aut tantis solvet lacrimis, quos barbarus illinc, hinc Rufinus agit, quibus arva fretumque negatur? magna quidem per rura lues, sed maior oberrat intra tecta timor. tandem succurre ruenti heu patriae, Stilicho! dilecta hic pignora certe, 95 hic domus, hic thalamis primum genialibus omen, hic tibi felices erexit regia taedas. vel solus sperate veni. te proelia viso languescent avidique cadet dementia monstri.” Talibus urgetur discors Aurora procellis. 100 at Stilicho, Zephyris cum primum bruma remitti et iuga diffusis nudari coepta pruinis, partibus Italiae tuta sub pace relictis utraque castra movens Phoebi properabat ad ortus, * * * * * Page 65 danced attendance on a civilian’s standards. Rufinus himself in their midst drapes tawny skins of beasts about his breast (thorough in his barbarity), and uses harness and huge quivers and twanging bows like those of the Getae--his dress openly showing the temper of his mind. One who drives a consul’s chariot and enjoys a consul’s powers has no shame to adopt the manners and dress of barbarians; Roman law, obliged to change her noble garment, mourns her slavery to a skin-clad judge. What looks then on men’s faces! What furtive murmurs! For, poor wretches, they could not even weep nor, without risk, ease their grief in converse. “How long shall we bear this deadly yoke? What end shall there ever be to our hard lot? Who will free us from this death-fraught anarchy, this day of tears? On this side the barbarian hems us in, on that Rufinus oppresses us; land and sea are alike denied us. A pestilence stalks through the country: yes, but a deadlier terror haunts our houses. Stilicho, delay no more but succour thy dying land; of a truth here are thy children, here thy home, here were taken those first auspices for thy marriage, so blessed with children, here the palace was illumined with the torches of happy wedlock. Nay, come even though alone, thou for whom we long; wars will perish at thy sight and the ravening monster’s rage subside.”