This champion of the gate. No fragile wall
Stands here for Caesar, blocking with its bulk
Pompeius' way to freedom. Now he trusts
His shield no more, lest his sinister hand,
Idle, give life by shame; and on his breast
Bearing a forest of spears, though spent with toil
And worn with onset, falls upon his foe
And braves alone the wounds of all the war.
might have noticed the reduced numbers of his following.
knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and
and brothers, wives and daughters, mothers and fathers.
at once. He can speak with the Wise Masters, make a peace
either a watch or a clock; and an old man who was supposed
the saddle. This one was sent for, and gave orders that