Of slaughter! only civil broils make peace."
These sad presages were enough to scare
The quivering Romans; but worse things affright them.
As Mænas[650] full of wine on Pindus raves,
So runs a matron through th' amazèd streets,
Disclosing Phœbus' fury in this sort;
"Pæan, whither am I haled? where shall I fall,
Thus borne aloft? I seen Pangæus' hill
With hoary top, and, under Hæmus' mount,
Philippi plains. Phœbus, what rage is this?680