(ridendum!) revoluta caput creditque latere, 315
quem non ipsa videt. furtim tamen ardua mittit
“This is the portent that agèd Lachesis foretold long years ago. My fallen crown assures me that Phrygia’s final crisis is upon her. Alas for the blood that shall redden Sangarius’ waves; for all the corpses that shall retard Meander’s slow stream. The hour is fixed irrevocably; such, long since, was my son’s, the Thunderer’s, will. A like disaster awaits the neighbouring peoples; in vain does Lydia invoke the thyrsus of Bacchus in her defence. Now fare thee well, land of Phrygia, farewell, walls doomed to the flames, walls that now rear aloft proud towers but will soon be levelled with the ground and the bare earth. Farewell, dear rivers: never more shall I hold my inspired revels in your grottoes; no more shall my chariot leave the traces of its wheels on Berecynthus’ heights.” So spake she, and turned her drums to strains of mourning. Attis filled his devoted country with holy lamentations and Cybele’s tawny lions burst into tears.
Eutropius, although this terrible revolt could not be hid and although rumour had spread everywhere the dread news, none the less affects to ignore it and shuts his eyes to the empire’s peril. ’Twas some poor troop of wandering brigands; such wretches call for punishment not war; a judge—so he brags—not a general should crush their strength. Even so the great Libyan bird, hard pressed by the cries of its pursuers, runs o’er the burning sands and flies through the dust, curving its wings like sails to catch the breeze; but when it clearly hears the footsteps close behind it, it forgets its flight, standing with closed eyes and hiding its head, believing, poor fool, it cannot be seen by those whom itself cannot see. None the less Eutropius
cum donis promissa novis, si forte rogatus
desinat. ille semel nota dulcedine praedae
se famulo servire negat, nec grata timentum
munera; militiam nullam nec prima superbus 320