My conquering eagles? say I merit naught,[611] 340 Yet, for long service done, reward these men, And so they triumph, be't with whom ye will. Whither now shall these old bloodless souls repair? What seats for their deserts? what store of ground For servitors to till? what colonies To rest their bones? say, Pompey, are these worse Than pirates of Sicilia?[612] they had houses. Spread, spread these flags that ten years' space have conquer'd! Let's use our tried force: they that now thwart right, In wars will yield to wrong:[613] the gods are with us; 350 Neither spoil nor kingdom seek we by these arms, But Rome, at thraldom's feet, to rid from tyrants." This spoke, none answer'd, but a murmuring buzz Th' unstable people made: their household-gods And love to Rome (though slaughter steel'd their hearts, And minds were prone) restrain'd them; but war's love And CÊsar's awe dash'd all. Then LÊlius,[614] The chief centurion, crown'd with oaken leaves For saving of a Roman citizen, Stepp'd forth, and cried: "Chief leader of Rome's force, So be I may be bold to speak a truth, 361 We grieve at this thy patience and delay. What, doubt'st thou us? even now when youthful blood Pricks forth our lively bodies, and strong arms Can mainly throw the dart, wilt thou endure These purple grooms, that senate's tyranny? Is conquest got by civil war so heinous? Well, lead us, then, to Syrtes' desert shore, Or Scythia, or hot Libya's thirsty sands. This band, that all behind us might be quail'd, 370 Hath with thee pass'd the swelling ocean, And swept the foaming breast of Arctic[615] Rhene. Love over-rules my will; I must obey thee, CÊsar: he whom I hear thy trumpets charge, I hold no Roman; by these ten blest ensigns And all thy several triumphs, shouldst thou bid me Entomb my sword within my brother's bowels, Or father's throat, or women's groaning[616] womb, This hand, albeit unwilling, should perform it? Or rob the gods, or sacred temples fire, 380 These troops should soon pull down the church of Jove;[617] If to encamp on Tuscan Tiber's streams, I'll boldly quarter out the fields of Rome; What walls thou wilt be levell'd with the ground, These hands shall thrust the ram, and make them fly, Albeit the city thou wouldst have so raz'd Be Rome itself." Here every band applauded, And, with their hands held up, all jointly cried They'll follow where he please. The shouts rent heaven, As when against pine-bearing Ossa's rocks 390 Beats Thracian Boreas, or when trees bow[618] down And rustling swing up as the wind fets[619] breath. When CÊsar saw his army prone to war, And Fates so bent, lest sloth and long delay