Complete Works of Silius Italicus

by Silius Italicus

  But the Fire-god, no friend to Sicily, loves to dwell in her hollow caverns. Thus Lipare, whose interior is devoured by huge furnaces, vomits forth sulphurous smoke from its hollow summit. Then Etna belches forth the noise of her pent-up fire from her tottering cliffs; night and day alike she rages like an angry sea with unceasing thunder-roll and muffled roaring. A torrent of flame wells forth, as if from the fatal stream of Phlegethon, and hurls out a pitchy shower of red-hot stones from its molten depths. But, though the interior of Etna boils over with an inexhaustible storm of flame, and though fresh fire is constantly generated below and streams forth, yet — marvellous to tell — the mountain-top is white and harbours ice and flame side by side. The burning peaks are stiff with perpetual frost, eternal winter lies on the lofty summit, and hot snow is hidden beneath black ashes.

  I need not mention the realm of Aeolus, where the winds are at home and the storms are kept in prison. On the South coast Pachynus stretches far towards the Peloponnese, and its rocks reply to the Ionian waves that dash against them. On the West famous Lilybaeum faces Libya and its fierce West-winds, and sees the Scorpion sink down. And lastly Pelorus, the third headland of Sicily, the Northeast coast, turns toward Italy, prolonging its stony ridge to the sea, and raising high its mountain of sand.

  During a long life a kindly ruler had governed the island with gentle sway. Hiero had power to rule his people in peace, and harassed his subjects with no terrors; he was slow to violate a pledge sanctioned by oath, and had for many years kept unstained the tie of alliance with Rome. But when the Fates laid him low with old age and decrepitude, the sceptre passed in a fatal hour to his youthful grandson, and the peaceful palace admitted a prince of unbridled passions. The young man’s head — he was not yet sixteen — was turned by his elevation to the throne; he could not support the burden of his crown and trusted overmuch to transient prosperity. Thus in a short time, while his crimes were protected by the sword, right disappeared and wrong in every form was rife; decency was the last thing that the monarch thought of; and his headlong passions were heated by his mother’s descent from Pyrrhus, and by his noble ancestry, the Aeacidae and Achilles immortalized in poetry. Therefore he was in eager haste to further the designs of Carthage; nor did he postpone his crime but made a new treaty at once, stipulating that Hannibal, having conquered Rome, should withdraw from Sicily. But retribution was at hand, and the Fury denied him a grave in that very soil from which he had just bargained that his ally should be excluded. For a band of conspirators could not endure the young man’s ferocity and pride, his extravagance and thirst for blood, his contempt for decency together with his inhuman cruelty, and were so wrought up by fear and anger that they murdered him. Nor did the sword stop there: they went on to kill women also, and his innocent sisters were seized and slain. New-found freedom brandished the sword and threw off the yoke. Some favoured the army of Carthage, and others the Romans, their ancient allies; nor were there wanting wild spirits who preferred to join neither alliance.

  Such was the disturbance and excitement which the king’s death had aroused in Sicily, when Marcellus brought his fleet to anchor at Zancle; he held high office; for the purple had brought him the consular rods for the third time. And when he had heard all — the murder of the tyrant, the division of opinion among the people, the number of the Carthaginian troops and the points occupied by them, what cities remained friendly to the Romans, and how Syracuse, puffed up with pride, obstinately refused to open her gates — then Marcellus took the field in indignation and speedily poured forth all the horrors of war upon the surrounding country. So the North-wind, when it has rushed down headlong from Rhodope’s height and hurled the tenth rolling wave upon the shore, follows with a roar the flood of water it has thrown up and rages with boisterous wings. The army first laid waste the plains of Leontini — the land once ruled by the savage Laestrygonian king. The general pressed on fast: in his eyes, delay in defeating Greek troops was as shameful as defeat. He flew all over the field — it seemed like a contest of men against women — and enriched with blood the fields that Ceres loves. The enemy fell in heaps, and the speed of battle made it impossible for any to escape death by flight. For whenever a fugitive hoped to save his life, Marcellus was before him and barred the way with his sword. “On, on!” he cried; “mow down this feeble folk and lay them low with the steel”; and he pushed the laggards on with the boss of his shield. “Cowards stand before you, men who have learnt to endure easy bouts of wrestling in the shade, and who delight to oil their limbs till they glisten; and those who conquer them in battle get little glory. To beat them at sight is the only credit you can gain.” Thus addressed by their general, the whole army advanced to the attack; their only rivalry now was with one another, as they contended who should excel in deeds of valour and take the choicest spoil. The current of the Euripus by Euboea does not rage more fiercely when it dashes through its rocky channel upon Caphareus, nor the Propontis when it drives out the sounding waves from its narrow mouth; nor does the narrow sea that beats upon the Pillars of Hercules near the setting sun boil and rush on with louder uproar.

  So fierce was the battle, and yet a noble deed of mercy that was done there became famous. A Tuscan soldier, named Asilus, taken prisoner earlier at Lake Trasimene, had found easy service and a kind master in Beryas, his captor, and had returned to his native land with the consent and aid of his owner. Now he had gone back to active service and was making good his former mishap by fighting in Sicily. And now, while fighting in the centre of the fray, he came upon Beryas, who had been sent by the Carthaginians to make a treaty with the king of Syracuse and was fighting side by side with the Syracusans; but his face was concealed by the brazen helmet that he wore. Asilus attacked him with the steel, and, as he tottered feebly backwards, hurled him to the ground. Then, when he heard his conqueror’s voice, the poor wretch, recalling his life as it were from Hades in fear and trembling, tore from his chin the straps that bound his useless helmet, and asked for mercy at the same time. He was about to say more, when the Tuscan, startled by the sudden sight of that familiar face, withdrew his sword and thus addressed his antagonist, ere he could speak, with sighs and tears: “Sue not, I pray, to me for life with doubts and entreaties. For me it is right to save my enemy. The noble warrior is he, whose first and last thought is to keep faith even in time of war. You began it and saved me from death before I saved you. I should deserve the troubles I have met, and should deserve to meet again with worse troubles, if my right hand failed to clear a path for you through fire and sword.” With these words he raised Beryas willingly from the ground and granted a life in exchange for the life he had received.

  Then Marcellus, having won his first battle on Sicilian soil, moved forward with his army unmolested and turned his victorious standards against the walls of Syracuse, surrounding the fortifications with his troops. But he felt less eagerness for battle: he hoped to calm the blind passion of the citizens by his warnings and to expel the anger from their hearts. Yet, in case they defied him and ascribed to cowardice his choice of forbearance, the siege was strictly carried on, and his grasp was not loosened: on the contrary, he kept a closer watch than ever, with fearless brow and wary strategy, and in secrecy contrived surprises for the enemy. So a white swan floats on the still waters of the Eridanus or by the bank of Cayster, and lets the current carry its motionless body, while its feet row on beneath the unruffled stream.

  Meantime, while the besieged Syracusans were divided in their minds, Marcellus summoned forth the peoples and cities; and they brought their forces to aid him. Such were — Messana, famous for its Oscan founders, a coast-town that lies nearest to Italy of all Sicilian towns; and Catana, too close to the fire of Typhoeus, and famous for the pair of dutiful sons whom she bore long ago; and Camarina, which the Fates would not suffer to be moved; and Hybla, whose honeycombs boldly challenge Hymettus for sweetness; and Selinus, planted with palm-trees; and Mylae, once a sufficient harbour, though now the bare beach
offers but a doubtful refuge to shipwrecked mariners. Lofty Eryx too was loyal, and Centuripae from her high peak, and Entella, where the green vine-plant grows abundantly — Entella, a name dear to Trojan Acestes. Nor was Thapsus backward, nor the men of Aerae, descending from their icy heights. From Agyrium men came flocking, and from Tyndaris that boasts of the Spartan Twins. Hilly Acragas sent a troop of a thousand horse, whose neighings made the air hot and rolled a cloud of dust to the sky. Their leader was Grosphus, upon whose shield a fierce bull was engraved, in memory of an ancient punishment. When men’s bodies were roasted over a fire in the bull, their cries took the sound of a bull bellowing; and one might believe that the sounds were produced by real cattle driven from their stalls. But punishment followed; for the inventor of this inhuman contrivance died in the bull he had made, lowing pitifully. Gela, named after a river, came; Halaesa came, and Palaeca that punishes perjured men with sudden death; and Trojan Acesta; and the Acis which flows to the sea through the territory of Etna and bathes the grateful sea-nymph with its sweet waters. (Acis was once a lover and a rival of Polyphemus; and, while fleeing from the clownish rage of the furious giant, was turned into a stream of water; thus he escaped his enemy, and mixed his stream in triumph with Galatea’s flood.) There came too those who drink of Hypsa and Alabis, loud-sounding rivers, and the transparent waters of shining Achates; men came from winding Chrysa and scanty Hipparis and the Pantagias whose slender stream is easily crossed, and from the yellow waters of fast-flowing Symaethus.

  On the shore where the Himera falls into the Aeolian sea, Thermae armed her men — Thermae rich in the possession of a bygone poet. The river splits up into two channels, and its swift waters flow both east and west; and the Nebrodes, as rich in shade as any mountain in Sicily, feeds both divided streams. From her sacred groves Henna on the height sent forth holy men to battle. (At Henna a cave, opening up a vast fissure in the earth, reveals a hidden way and dark passage to Hades, by which a strange bridal procession once came up to a land unknown. For by it the Stygian king, stung by Cupid’s arrow, dared to approach the light of day and, leaving doleful Acheron, drove his chariot through empty space to the forbidden earth. There he seized in haste the maiden of Henna and then turned back towards the Styx his horses, terrified by the sight of heaven and the sunlight, and buried his prize in the darkness.) Staunch to the Roman generals and the Roman alliance were Petraea and Callipolis and Engyon of the stony fields; Hadranum and Ergetium too; Melita, proud of her woollen fabrics, and Calacte whose strand abounds with fish; and Cephaloedium, whose beach dreads in time of storms the sea monsters that feed in the blue fields of ocean; and the men of Tauromenium, who see Charybdis catching ships and swallowing them in her whirlpool, and then again shooting them up from the depths to the stars. All these supported Rome and the standards of Italy.

  The other cities of Sicily took the side of Carthage. Agathyrna sent a thousand men; and so did Trogilus, blown on by the South-winds, and Phacelina, where stands a shrine of Taurian Diana. Thrice that number came from Panhormos, rich in game, whether you follow the wild beasts in the woods, or sweep the sea with nets, or prefer to bring down birds from the sky. Neither Herbesos nor Nauloeha sat idle, indifferent to the crisis; nor did Morgentia of the leafy plains abstain from traitorous war; Amastra came forward, together with Menae and Tisse unknown to fame; Netum and Mutyce and the soldiers of the river Achaetus. Aid came to the Carthaginians from Drepane, from the Helorus whose stream is heard afar, and from Trioeala, laid waste later in the Servile War. On the same side was bold Arbela, and hilly Ietas; Tabas skilled in arms, and little Cossyra, no larger than Megara, fought side by side; also the island of Gaulum, a fair sight when it resounds with the halcyon’s song and her floating nest rides on the smooth surface of the unruffled sea. Syracuse herself, that famous city, had filled her spacious walls with mustered troops and arms of every kind. The boastful speeches of the leaders roused to hotter rage a people easily swayed and fond of disturbance: “Never,” said they, “has an enemy set foot within the walls of Syracuse and her four fortresses; our ancestors saw how the city, made impregnable by the nature of her harbour, eclipsed the laurels that Salamis won from the Eastern king; three hundred triremes sank in one common shipwreck before their eyes; and Athens, proud as she was to have defeated the bow-bearing king, sank down unavenged to destruction in the sea.” Thus the populace was set on fire by two brothers, born at Carthage of a Carthaginian mother; but their father was a Sicilian who had been expelled from Syracuse on a criminal charge. Brought up in Africa, they showed their mixed origin, combining Carthaginian cunning with the frivolity of Sicilians.

  Marcellus saw all this; and, now that the rebellion seemed a thing past mending and the enemy were beginning war unprovoked, he called the gods of Sicily to witness, with the rivers and lakes and Arethusa’s spring, that he was challenged to war against his will, and forced by the enemy to don those arms that he had long refused to put on. Then he assailed the walls with a tornado of missiles and thundered in arms against the city. The same ardour carried all his men along; they vied with one another in activity. There was a tower, a building of many floors that rose up to the sky; the genius of a Greek had given it ten stories and had used up many a shady tree for the work. From it the besieged busily launched lighted torches and stones, and filled the air with the menace of burning pitch. Then Cimber aimed from a distance and threw a fire-brand, and the fatal weapon stuck fast in the side of the tower. The fire, fed and strengthened by the wind, spread the growing peril through the interior of the tower; climbing triumphant up the lofty structure and its ten successive stories, it quickly devoured the crackling timbers, till the victorious flames licked the tottering summit, while a huge, cloud of smoke spouted up to the sky. Wreaths of smoke filled all the interior with black darkness, and not a single man escaped; as if struck by sudden lightning, the building crumbled down into ashes.

  On the other hand the Roman ships met with equal misfortune at sea. For when they came close to the buildings of the city, at a point where the harbour-water laps gently against the walls, they were discomfited by the cunning device of an unexpected weapon. A spar like a ship’s mast, skilfully rounded and with all its knots planed away, carried an iron-clawed grapnel at its extremity; and this spar, when let down from the height of the wall, caught up the attackers with its iron claws, and, when it was hauled back, landed them within the city. Nor did this engine of war catch up men only: it often hoisted up a war-ship, when it struck the vessel from above with the descending steel of its unyielding jaws. As soon as it had fixed its iron point in the nearest ship and raised the vessel up into the air, then a piteous sight was seen: the cables were suddenly let go by machinery, and lowered their prey with such force and speed that the ship and her company were swallowed up whole by the sea. In addition to these devices, small loopholes were skilfully bored in the wall, through which weapons could be shot secretly and safely; for the high wall protected the marks men. But their task was not free from danger; for weapons thrown by the enemy might come back in revenge by the same narrow openings. Thus the ingenuity of a Greek and cunning more powerful than force kept Marcellus and all his threats at bay by sea and land, and the mighty armament stood helpless before the walls.

  There was living then in Syracuse a man who sheds immortal glory on his city, a man whose genius far surpassed that of other sons of earth. He was poor in this world’s goods, but to him the secrets of heaven and earth were revealed. He knew how the rising sun portended rain when its rays were dull and gloomy; he knew whether the earth is fixed where it hangs in space or shifts its position; he knew the unalterable law by which Ocean surrounds the world with the girdle of its waters; he understood the contest between the moon and the tides, and the ordinance that governs the flow of Father Ocean. Not without reason men believed that Archimedes had counted the sands of this great globe; they say too that he had moved ships and carried great buildings of stone, though drawn by women only, up a height.
/>
  While Archimedes thus wore out by his devices the Roman general and his men, a great Carthaginian fleet of a hundred sail was speeding to the aid of Syracuse and cleaving the blue sea with their beaks. The hopes of the citizens at once rose high: they sailed forth from the harbour and added their vessels to the fleet. The Romans on their side were not slow to suit their arms to the oar, and speedily ploughed the water with their blades. Their oars churned up the sea, the surface of the water was whitened by their repeated strokes, and a wake of foam spread wide over the hoary deep. Both fleets rode proudly on the wave, and a new kind of storm disquieted Neptune’s realm. The sea rang with the sound of voices, and the shouting was re-echoed by the cliffs. And now the Roman fleet, disposed over the empty space of sea, had enclosed the wide waters with its two wings, in preparation for battle; and their vessels, like a ring of hunters, shut in the watery plain. And then the enemy’s fleet came on, also drawn up in the form of a crescent, and cramping the sea with its wings. Quickly the trumpets sounded, and the cruel braying of the brass struck terror as it echoed far over the empty space of sea; and the noise brought Triton up from the depths, alarmed by a din that drowned his twisted shell. The combatants almost forgot the sea beneath them: with so mighty an effort they bend forward to fight, planting their feet on the very gunwale of their vessels, and leaning over as they shoot their missiles. The space of sea between the fleets was strewn with spent weapons; and the ships, raised high in the water by the strokes of the panting oarsmen, ploughed the foaming sea with an ever-shifting furrow.

  Some ships had the oars on their broadside swept away by the impact of a hostile craft; others, after ramming an enemy with their beaks, were held fast themselves by the injury they had inflicted. In the middle of the fleet, one formidable vessel towered above the rest; no huger ship was ever launched from the arsenals of Carthage. She struck the water with four hundred oars; and when she proudly caught the force of the wind with her spread of sail, and gathered in every breeze with the ends of her yards, her great bulk moved forward as slowly as if she were propelled over the water by oars alone. The ships that carried the Roman soldiers were light and handy in their advance, and answered readily to the hand of the steersman.