shines out from the midst of banal flattery of the emperor with astonishing splendour. The poem de qualitate temporis (4) closes with four fine lines with the unmistakable Senecan ring about them—
quid tam parva loquor? moles pulcerrima caeli
ardebit flammis tota repente suis.
omnia mors poscit. lex est, non poena, perire:
hic aliquo mundus tempore nullus erit.
Why speak of things so small? The glorious vault of heaven one day shall blaze with sudden self-kindled flame. Death calls for all creation. 'Tis a law, not a penalty to perish. The universe itself shall one day be as though it had never been.
Cato (9) deliberates on suicide with characteristic rhetoric, artificial in the extreme, but not devoid of dignity—
estne aliquid, quod Cato non potuit?
dextera, me vitas? durum est iugulasse Catonem?
sed, quia liber erit, iam puto, non dubitas.
fas non est vivum cuiquam servire Catonem:
quinctiam vivit nunc Cato, si moritur.[2]
Is there then that which Cato had not the heart to do?
Right-hand, dost thou shrink from me? Is it hard to slay
Cato? Nay, methinks thou dost hesitate no more, for thou
shalt set Cato free. 'Tis a crime that Cato should live
to be any man's slave; nay, Cato truly lives if Cato die.
Cleverest of all is the treatment of the rhetorical theme of the two brothers who meet in battle in the civil war (72). The one unwittingly slays the other, strips the slain, and discovers what he has done—
quod fuerat virtus, factum est scelus. haeret in hoste
miles et e manibus mittere tela timet.
inde ferox: 'quid, lenta manus, nunc denique cessas?
iustius hoste tibi qui moriatur adest.
fraternam res nulla potest defendere caedem;
mors tua sola potest: morte luenda tua est,
scilicet ad patrios referes spolia ampla penates?
ad patrem victor non potes ire tuum.
sed potes ad fratrem: nunc fortiter utere telo!
impius hoc telo es, hoc potes esse pius.
vivere si poteris, potuisti occidere fratrem!
nescisti: sed scis: haec mora culpa tua est.
viximus adversis, iaccamus partibus isdem
(dixit et in dubio est utrius ense cadat).
ense meo moriar, maculato morte nefanda?
cui moreris, ferrum quo moriare dabit.'
dixit et in fratrem fraterno concidit ense:
victorem et victum condidit una manus.[163]
What had been valour now is made a crime. The soldier
halts by his foe and fears to launch his shafts. Then
his courage rekindled. 'What! coward hand, dost thou
delay now? There is one here whom thou shouldst slay
sooner than the foe. Naught can assoil of the guilt of
a brother's blood save only death; 'tis thy death must
atone. Shalt thou bear home to thy father's halls rich
spoil of war? Nay, victor thus, thou canst not go to meet
thy sire. But victor thou canst go to meet thy brother;
now use thy weapon bravely. This weapon stained thee with
crime, 'tis this weapon shall make thee clean. If thou hast
heart to live, thou hadst the heart to slay thy brother;
thou hadst no such murderous thought, but now thou hast;
this thy tarrying brings thee guilt. We have lived foes, let
us lie united in the peace of the grave.' He ceased and
doubted on whose sword to fall.' Shall I die by mine own
sword, thus foul with shameful murder. He for whom thou diest
shall give thee the steel wherewith to die.' He ceased, and
fell dead upon his brother, slain by his brother's sword.
The same hand slew both victor and vanquished.
This is not poetry of the first class, if indeed it is poetry at all. But it is trick-rhetoric of the most brilliant kind without degenerating into bombastic absurdity. There is, in fact, a restraint in these epigrams which provides a remarkable contrast with the turgid extravagance that defaces so much of the dramas. This is in part due to the difference of the moulds into which the rhetoric is run, but it is hard to resist the belief that the epigrams—written mainly during the exile in Corsica—are considerably later than the plays. They are in themselves insignificant; they show no advance in dexterity upon the dramas, but they do show a distinct increase of maturity.