Act 4 — Scene IV.

Unless my thoughts be guilty of deceit, Or these be lying signs which ye have marked Within Numantia's walls—the horrid din, The lamentable cries, the blazing fires— I fear and dread, and scarcely have a doubt, That these our barbarous foemen, brought to bay, Have turned their reckless rage against themselves. There are no people seen to man the towers, The watchmen give no customary calls, A death-like silence reigns within the town, As if these fierce and fiery Numantines Were living there in peace, and at their ease.

Thou may'st at once be quit of such a doubt, For if thou wishest it, I offer me To scale the battlements, although in sooth It is a somewhat perilous risk to run; And solely to observe what our proud foes Are doing now within Numantia's walls.

Plant then some ladder firm against the wall, And, Marius, make thy present promise good!

Go, bring the ladder, and, Ermilius, you Give orders that my buckler quick be fetched, And eke my helmet with the snow-white plume; For, faith, I mean this day to lose my life, Or end the doubtings which possess the camp.

Thy buckler and thy helmet both are brought; And see, Olympius brings the ladder here.

Commend me now to great and mighty Jove, For I am ready to fulfil my pledge.

Raise, Marius, raise the knee a little more, Contract thy body, and protect thy head! Courage! for thou hast reached the top at last. What see'st thou?

Holy gods! and what is this?

What startles thee?

It startles me to see A ruddy lake of blood, and on the ground In every street a thousand corpses lying!

And is there none alive?

I reckon not; So far, at least, as my own vision goes, There is no living being in the town.

Leap then within, and look thee well around!

My friend, Jugurtha, follow him as well; We all shall follow thee.

It doth not suit Thy weighty office to take such a step; Assuage thy feelings, good my lord, and wait Till Marius or myself return to bring The latest tidings of this haughty town. Hold firm the ladder there! Ye righteous heavens! O what a saddening spectacle and grim Is offered to my sight! O strange event! The smoking blood is bathing all the soil, The square and streets are crowded with the dead! I mean to leap within and see the whole.

Without a doubt these fiery Numantines, By their barbaric fury goaded on, Have chosen rather to consign their lives Unto the sharp edge of their very swords, Than yield them up to our victorious hands, Whose sight and touch are horrible to them.

If but one living being had remained, In Rome they had not me the triumph grudged Of having curbed and crushed this haughty race, The fierce and mortal foemen of our name; In will determined, ready aye to face The greatest peril and the direst risk; Whom not a Roman here can ever boast Of having challenged with the naked sword; Whose valour, whose dexterity in arms, Have forced me, and with reason, to surround And pen them in like fierce untamèd beasts, And gain that triumph with my art and skill Which was impossible by dint of arms. But Marius now returns, it seems to me.

In vain, illustrious, prudent General, Have we expended all our strength and might; In vain hast thou been diligent withal; Thy hopes of victory, that seemed so bright, Assured thee by thy martial skill and lore, Have changed to smoke, and vanished out of sight! The mournful story, and the end full sore Of proud Numantia's unconquered town, Deserve to be remembered evermore. Their loss and fall have gained them good renown; Their dying, which displayed their firmness most, Hath snatched from thee the triumph and the crown. Our schemes are vain, and all our labour lost; Their death with honour better issue shews That all the power the Roman arms can boast. This people, wearied with their countless woes, Have snatched themselves from life and misery, And given their long account a sudden close. Numantia now is changed into a sea Of ruby blood, encumbered with the slain, Who fell by self-inflicted cruelty. Escaped have they from slav'ry's grinding chain, Whose load unequalled they declined to bear, With swift audacity that feared no pain. I saw within the middle of the square,[13] Exposed to view, a fiercely blazing fire, Fed with their corpses and their riches rare. And as I gazed, there came with kindling ire Theogenes, that valiant Numantine, Intent on death with an insane desire; And as he cursed his fate and luckless sign, He sprang into the middle of the flame, With fury suited to his mad design; And as he sprang, he cried: "O brilliant Fame, Come hither with thy countless tongues and eyes, Behold a deed it fits thee to proclaim! Approach, ye Romans, and receive the prize Of this rich town, to dust and ashes changed, Its fruits and flowers to thistles turned likewise!" I went away, with steps and thoughts deranged, And paced the chief part of the city round. Through all the ruined streets and lanes I ranged, But not one single Numantine I found, Whom I could seize alive and bear away, To bring thee tidings with a certain sound, For what grave reason, in what fearful way, They hurried on to ruin utterly, With such a grand and terrible display.

And was, mayhap, my breast filled full and high With barbarous arrogance and deaths combined, And clean devoid of righteous cruelty? Is it, perchance, quite foreign to my mind To treat the vanquished with the mercy due, As fits the victor who is brave and kind? Right badly in Numantia's town ye knew The manly valour reigning in my breast, Which burns to conquer and to pardon too!

My lord, Jugurtha may have news the best Concerning that which thou desir'st to know, For see, he now returns with much unrest.

O prudent General, 'tis vain to shew Thy valour further here; some otherwhere Thy matchless skill and industry bestow. Thy work is over in Numantia there; They all are dead and gone, save one, I ween, Who still doth live to give thee triumph rare. Within that very tower, as I have seen, There right in front of us, doth lurk a youth, Alarm'd and timid, but of gentle mien.

This is enough to make, if it be truth, In Rome my triumph o'er Numantia sure, For more I do not now desire, in sooth. Let us go straightway thither, and procure Some means to get the youth within our hands, Alive, for that is needful to secure.

What come ye here to seek? Ye Roman bands, If ye would fain within Numantia go, There's nought to hinder ye in all these lands! But with my tongue I give you here to know, That I possess this city's ill-kept keys, Which Death hath triumphed over as a foe!

O youth, I come desirous to have these; But more to let thee know what lies for thee Of pity in this bosom, if thou please.

Too late is all thy tardy clemency, When there are none to claim it, since I go To face the rigour of our stern decree; For that resolve, so full of grief and woe, Made by my kinsmen and my country dear, Hath caused the fearful, final end ye know.

This rash endeavour dazzles thee, I fear; Say, dost thou hold it as a dreadful fate To keep thy life in all its bloom and cheer?

Assuage, O tender youth, thine ardour great, Subject the slender valour thou hast stored To mine, which hath more honour and more weight; For from this day I pledge my faith and word That thou wilt be, what more canst thou require, Thine only master, and thy proper lord; And thou wilt jewels have and rich attire, And live a life as happy and as free As I can give thee, and thou canst desire, If thou surrender with good-will to me!

The complete fury of the countless dead Within this city, now reduced to dust; Their fear of pactions with the foeman made; Their horror of subjection all unjust; Numantia's hatreds and her rancours dread, I hold them all within this heart as trust; I am the heir of all her bravery: What folly then to think of conquering me! Belovèd land, O town unfortunate, Fear not that I, reared in thy bosom dear, Do rave about my duty in this strait, Or e'er will flinch through promise or through fear! Though country fail me now, and Heaven and Fate, Though all the world conspire to crush me here, It cannot be that I will ever do What is not worthy of thy valour true! If to this hiding-place I ran through fear, The fear of speedy death and desperate, I'll sally forth, with mind and courage clear, Impelled to follow and to share thy fate. Vile dread hath passed, and I will offer here Amends as daring as the fault was great; And this the error of my guileless age I'll pay by dying with a manly rage! O valiant citizens, I here maintain That I do hold your grand resolve as trust, That these base Romans shall no triumph gain, Unless it be above our very dust! Their scheming plans with me shall prove in vain, If so they deal at me a deadly thrust, Or wile me on, with promises of weight, To life and pleasure, that wide-opened gate! Hold, Romans, let your burning ardour cease, To break the wall ye have no need to move; For though your mighty power should more increase, Ye shall not conquer me, as I shall prove! My firm resolve ye now may view in peace, And if ye doubt the pure and perfect love Which I have cherished for my country dear, This fall of mine will straightway make it clear!

O matchless action, worthy of the meed Which old and valiant soldiers love to gain! Thou hast achieved a glory by thy deed Not only for Numantia, but for Spain! Thy valour strange, heroical indeed, Hath robbed me of my rights, and made them vain, For with thy fall thou hast upraised thy fame, And levelled down my victories to shame! O could Numantia gain what she hath lost, I would rejoice, if but to see thee there! For thou hast reaped the gain and honour most Of this long siege, illustrious and rare! Bear then, O stripling, bear away the boast, Enjoy the glory which the Heavens prepare, For thou hast conquered, by thy very fall, Him who in rising falleth worst of all!

From land to land let my clear voice extend, And, with its sweetest, most melodious sound, To every soul an ardent longing lend To make this deed eternally renowned! Raise, Romans, raise your heads, which lowly bend, Bear off this body, which such vigour found, In green and tender age, to snatch from you The glorious triumph which you thought your due! For I, who am the far-resounding Fame, For ever on, while moves the orb of light With step majestic through the heavenly frame, And gives this lower world new strength and might, Will give good heed to publish and proclaim With tongue of truth, with wingèd words and right, Numantia's valiant worth, unique and sole, From Nile to Baltic and from pole to pole. This peerless deed hath given proofs most plain What valour, in the ages yet to be, Shall dwell within the sons of mighty Spain, The heirs of such ancestral bravery! The cruel scythe of death shall work in vain, And eke the flight of time, to hinder me From sounding forth in song, without control, Numantia's powerful arm, and constant soul! In her alone I find such worth extreme As claims a record in the proudest lays; Such wealth of matter for the poet's theme, I That thousand ages may rehearse always Her deathless courage, and her strength supreme, Which claim in prose and verse the loftiest praise; 'Tis mine, in trust, to garner so much glory, And so give happy ending to our story!