their career. A terrible pause ensued, in which both armies continued to gaze upon each other with mutual terror. 3. At length, Cæsar's men, having taken breath, ran furiously upon the enemy, first discharging their javelins, and then drawing their swords. The same method was observed by Pompey's troops, who as vigorously opposed the attack. His cavalry, also, were ordered to charge on the very onset, which, with the multitude of archers and slingers, soon obliged Cæsar's men to give ground; whereupon, Cæsar immediately ordered the six cohorts, that were placed as a reinforcement, to advance, with orders to strike at the enemy's faces. This had its desired effect. The cavalry, that were but just now sure of victory, received an immediate check; the unusual method of fighting pursued by the cohorts, their aiming entirely at the visages of the assailants, and the horrible disfiguring wounds they made, all contributed to intimidate them so much, that, instead of defending their persons, their only endeavor was to save their faces. A total rout ensued of their whole body, which fled, in great disorder, to the neighboring mountains, while the archers and slingers, who were thus abandoned, were cut to pieces.

4. Cæsar now commanded the cohorts to pursue their success, and advancing, charged Pompey's troops upon the flank. This charge the enemy withstood for some time with great bravery, till he brought up his third line, which had not yet engaged. Pompey's infantry, being thus doubly attacked in front by fresh troops, and in rear by the victorious cohorts, could no longer resist, but fled to their camp. The right wing, however, still valiantly maintained their ground. But Cæsar, being now convinced that the victory was certain, with his usual clemency, cried out, to pursue the strangers, and to spare the Romans; upon which they all laid down their arms, and received quarter. The greatest slaughter was among the auxiliaries, who fled on all quarters, but principally went for safety to the camp. The battle had now lasted from the break of day till noon, although the weather was extremely hot; the conquerors, however, did not remit their ardor, being encouraged by the example of their general, who thought his victory not complete till he became master of the enemy's camp.

5. Accordingly marching on foot, at their head, he called upon them to follow, and strike the decisive blow. The co

**

horts, which were left to defend the camp, for some time made a formidable resistance, particularly a great number of the Thracians, and other barbarians, who were appointed for its defence; but nothing could resist the ardor of Cæsar's victorious army; they were, at last, driven from their re trenches, and all fled to the mountains, not far off. Cæsar seeing the field and camp strewed with his fallen country. men, was strongly affected at so melancholy a prospect, and could not help crying out, to one that stood near him, "They would have it so." Upon entering the enemy's camp, every object presented fresh instances of the blind presumption and madness of his adversaries. On all sides were to be seen tents adorned with ivy, and branches of myrtles, couches covered with purple, and side-boards loaded with plate. Eve ry thing gave proofs of the highest luxury, and seemed ra ther the preparatives for a banquet, the rejoicings for a victo ry, than the dispositions for a battle.

6. As for Pompey, who had formerly shown such instances of courage and conduct, when he saw his cavalry routed, on which he had placed his sole dependence, he absolutely lost his reason. Instead of thinking how to remedy this disorder, by rallying such troops as fled, or by opposing fresh troops to stop the progress of the conquerors, being totally amazed by this unexpected blow, he returned to the camp, and, in his tent, waited the issue of an event, which it was his duty to direct, not to follow. There he remained for some moments, without speaking; till, being told that the camp was attacked, "What," says he, are we pursued to our very entrenchments ?" And immediately quitting his armor, for a habit more suitable to his circumstances, he fled on horse back to the river Peneus; giving way to all the agonizing reflections which his deplorable situation must naturally suggest.

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7. Here he took ship, and proceeded to the Amphipolis; where, finding his affairs desperate, he steered to Lesbos, to take in his wife Cornelia, whom he had left there, at a dis tance from the dangers and hurry of war. She, who had long flattered herself with the hopes of victory, felt the reverse of her fortune, in an agony of distress. She was desired by the messenger, (whose tears, more than words, pro

Where had Pompey left his wife Cornelia ?

aimed the greatness of her misfortunes) to hasten, if she
pected to see Pompey, with but one ship, and even that
ot his own.
Her grief, which before was violent, now be-
me insupportable; she fainted away, and lay a considera-
e time without any signs of life. At length, recovering
erself, and reflecting that it was now no time for vain la-
entations, she ran quite through the city to the sea side.
ompey embraced her without speaking a word, and for
ɔme time supported her in his arms, in silent despair.

8. Having taken in Cornelia, he now continued his course,
teering to the south-east, and stopping no longer than was
ecessary to take in provisions, at the ports that occurred in
is passage. He was at last prevailed upon to apply to Pto-
emy, king of Egypt, to whose father Pompey had been a
considerable benefactor. Ptolemy, who was as yet a minor,
had not the government in his own hands, but he and his
kingdom were under the protection of Photinus and Theo-
dotus. These advised that Pompey should be invited on
shore, and there slain; and accordingly, Achilles, the com-
mander of the forces, and Septimius, by birth a Roman, and
who had formerly been a centurion in Pompey's army, were
appointed to carry their opinion into execution.

9. Being attended by three or four more, they went into a little bark, and rowed off from land towards Pompey's ship, that lay about a mile from the shore. Pompey, after taking leave of Cornelia, who wept at his departure, and having repeated two verses of Sophocles, signifying, that he who trusts his freedom to a tyrant, from that moment becomes a slave, gave his hand to Achilles, and stepped into the bark, with only two attendants of his own. They had now rowed from the ship a good way; and as, during that time, they all kept a profound silence, Pompey, willing to begin the discourse, accosted Septimius, whose face he recollected; "Methinks, friend," cried he, "you and I were once fellow-soldiers together." Septimius gave only a nod with his head, without uttering a word, or instancing the least civility. Pompey, therefore, took out a paper, on which he had minuted a speech he intended to make to the king, and began read

ing it.

To whom did Pompey apply for assistance after his defeat?-Who advised that Pompey should be invited on shore and slain ?Who were appointed to carry their advice into effect?

10. In this manner they approached the shore; and Cornelia, whose concern had never suffered her to lose sight of her husband, began to conceive hope, when she perceived the people on the strand crowding down along the coast, as if willing to receive him; but her hopes were soon destroyed; for at that instant, as Pompey rose, supporting himself upon his freedman's arm, Septimius stabbed him in his back, and was instantly seconded by Achilles. Pompey, perceiving his death inevitable, only disposed himself to meet it with decency-and covering his face with his robe, without speaking a word, with a sigh, resigned himself to his fate. At this horrid sight, Cornelia shrieked so loud as to be heard to the shore; but the danger she herself was in, did not allow the mariners time to look on; they immediately set sail, and, the wind proving favourable, fortunately they escaped the pursuit of the Egyptian galleys.

11. In the mean time, Pompey's murderers having cut off his head, caused it to be embalmed, the better to preserve its features, designing it for a present to Cæsar. The body was thrown naked on the strand, and exposed to the view of all those whose curiosity led them that way. However, his faithful freedman, Philip, still kept near it; and when the crowd was dispersed, he washed it in the sea; and looking round for materials to burn it with, he perceived the wreck of a fishing-boat, of which he composed a pile. While he was thus piously employed, he was accosted by an old Roman soldier, who had served under Pompey in his youth. "Who art thou," said he, "that art making these humble preparations for Pompey's funeral?" Philip having answered that he was one of his freedmen, "Alas!" replied the soldier, permit me to share in this honor also; among all the miseries of my exile, it will be my last sad comfort, that I have been able to assist at the funeral of my old commander, and touch the body of the bravest general that ever Ronie produced."

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Who buried Pompey?

THE WORLD A FLEETING SHOW.

This world is all a fleeting show,

For man's illusion given

The smiles of Joy, the tears of Wo,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow— ·
There's nothing true but Heaven!

And false the light on Glory's plume
As fading hues of even;

And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb-
There's nothing bright but Heaven!

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we're driven,
And Fancy's flash, and Reason's ray,
Serve but to light the troubled way-
There's nothing calm but Heaven!

DEATH OF ANTONY.

1. ANTONY, being lost in luxury and effeminacy with Cleopatra, gave Cæsar* time to get his forces together, who might otherwise have been easily defeated, had Antony come upon him before he was prepared. Antony's fleet consisted of five hundred large ships, on board of which was an army of two hundred thousand foot, and twenty-two thousand horse. Cæsar had only two hundred and fifty ships, eighty housand foot, and twelve thousand horse. Antony was advised by his ablest commanders not to engage by sea; but Cleopatra advising to the contrary, they came to a general engagement near the city of Actium in Epirus. Victory was for sometime doubtful, till the retreat of Cleopatra, who fled with the whole Egyptian squadron, and was precipitately followed by Antony, declaring every thing was lost; for Antoy's army immediately submitted to Cæsar.

Where did the armies of Cæsar and Antony come to an engagement?-What first turned the scale of victory in favor of Cæsar? *Octavius, nephew and successor of Julius, who won the battle of Pharsalia.