CATO Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore, In that small heap of dust, was not confined So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt And narrow cell sprang forth (1) and sought the sky Where dwells the Thunderer.

Black the space of air Upreaching to the poles that bear on high The constellations in their nightly round; There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth Abide those lofty spirits, half divine, Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell, Where nor the monument encased in gold, Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring The buried dead, in union with the spheres, Pompeius' spirit.

When with heavenly light His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze; Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight, And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind Of haughty Cato.
He while yet the scales Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given The world its master, hating both the chiefs, Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause And for his country: since Pharsalia's field Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart Bound to Pompeius.

Rome in him received Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs He cherished with new hope and weapons gave Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell, The aim of all his host.

And lest the foe In rapid course triumphant should collect His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought A routed army sailed upon the main Thronging the sea with keels?
Round Malea's cape And Taenarus open to the shades below And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet Sweeps o'er the yielding wave, by northern breeze Borne past the Cretan shores.