The Prophecy of Capys by Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Thomas Babington Macaulay
The son of Zachary Macaulay, a British colonial governor and abolitionist, Macaulay was born in Leicestershire and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Whilst at Cambridge he wrote much poetry and won several prizes. In 1825 he published a prominent essay on Milton in the Edinburgh Review.
In 1830 he became a Member of Parliament for the pocket borough of Calne. After the Great Reform Act was passed, he became MP for Leeds. Macaulay was appointed Secretary to the Board of Control, which required him to visit India. Macaulay was a convinced colonialist and a believer in European, especially British, superiority over all things Oriental. Serving on the Supreme Council of India between 1834 and 1838 Macaulay was instrumental in creating the foundations of bilingual colonial India, by convincing the council and parliament to close schools and colleges teaching in Sanskrit or Arabic and instead to teach English to "natives" and provide education in English only.
Macaulay authored the Indian Penal Code and chaired the First Law Commission of India. Putting to work a Benthamite framework of Panopticism he argued that the criminal law system for India "should be framed on two great principles, - the principle of suppressing crime with the smallest possible amount of suffering, and the principle of ascertaining truth at the smallest possible cost of time and money". (Bentham is credited with designing the Panopticon, considered the ‘father of English law’.
The criminal law system, one enacted immediately in the aftermath of the 1857 ‘Sepoy mutiny’ (as per the colonisers) or the ‘first war of Indian independence’ (as per Indian nationalists), in other words, was an attempt to set out a moral framework of illegality aimed at managing political resistance and, at the same time, an experiment in panopticism. As it turned out, it was a ‘successful’ experiment - the Indian Penal Code was later simply reproduced in most other British colonies – and to date many of these laws are still in place. The anti-sodomy provision, Section 377 continuing in places as far apart as Singapore, Sri Lanka and Zimbabwe.
A Lay Sung at the Banquet in the Capitol, on the Day Whereon Manius Curius Dentatus, a Second Time Consul, Triumphed Over King Pyrrhus and the Tarentines, in the Year of the City CCCCLXXIX
I
Now slain is King Amulius, Of the great Sylvian line,
Who reigned in Alba Longa, On the throne of Aventine.
Slain is the Ponfiff Camers, Who spake the words of doom:
``The children to the Tiber, The mother to the tomb.''
II
In Alba's lake no fisher His net to-day is flinging;
On the dark rind of Alba's oaks To-day no axe is ringing;
The yoke hangs o'er the manger; The scythe lies in the hay:
Through all the Alban villages No work is done to-day.
III
And every Alban burgher Hath donned his whitest gown;
And every head in Alba Weareth a poplar crown;
And every Alban door-post With boughs and flowers is gay,
For to-day the dead are living, The lost are found to-day.
IV
They were doomed by a bloody king,
They were doomed by a lying priest,
They were cast on the raging flood,
They were tracked by the raging beast;
Raging beast and raging flood Alike have spared the prey;
And to-day the dead are living, The lost are found to-day.
V
The troubled river knew them, And smoothed his yellow foam,
And gently rocked the cradle That bore the fate of Rome.
The ravening she-wolf knew them, And licked them o'er and
o'er,
And gave them of her own fierce milk, Rich with raw flesh and
gore.
Twenty winters, twenty springs, Since then have rolled away;
And to-day the dead are living: The lost are found to-day.
VI
Blithe it was to see the twins, Right goodly youths and tall,
Marching from Alba Longa To their old grandsire's hall.
Along their path fresh garlands Are hung from tree to tree:
Before them stride the pipers, Piping a note of glee.
VII
On the right goes Romulus, With arms to the elbows red,
And in his hand a broadsword, And on the blade a head--
A head in an iron helmet, With horse-hair hanging down,
A shaggy head, a swarthy head, Fixed in a ghastly frown--
The head of King Amulius Of the great Sylvian line,
Who reigned in Alba Longa, On the throne of Aventine.
VIII
On the left side goes Remus, With wrists and fingers red,
And in his hand a boar-spear, And on the point a head--
A wrinkled head and aged, With silver beard and hair,
And holy fillets round it, Such as the pontiffs wear--
The head of ancient Camers, Who spake the words of doom:
``The children to the Tiber; The mother to the tomb.''
IX
Two and two behind the twins Their trusty comrades go,
Four and forty valiant men, With club, and axe, and bow.
On each side every hamlet Pours forth its joyous crowd,
Shouting lads and baying dogs, And children laughing loud,
And old men weeping fondly As Rhea's boys go by,
And maids who shriek to see the heads, Yet, shrieking, press more
nigh.
X
So marched they along the lake; They marched by fold and
stall,
By cornfield and by vineyard, Unto the old man's hall.
XI
In the hall-gate sat Capys, Capys, the sightless seer;
From head to foot he trembled As Romulus drew near.
And up stood stiff his thin white hair, And his blind eyes
flashed fire:
``Hail! foster child of the wondrous nurse! Hail! son of the
wondrous sire!''
XII
``But thou--what dost thou here In the old man's peaceful
hall?
What doth the eagle in the coop, The bison in the stall?
Our corn fills many a garner; Our vines clasp many a tree;
Our flocks are white on many a hill: But these are not for
thee.
XIII
``For thee no treasure ripens In the Tartessian mine;
For thee no ship brings precious bales Across the Libyan
brine;
Thou shalt not drink from amber; Thou shalt not rest on down;
Arabia shall not steep thy locks, Nor Sidon tinge thy gown.
XIV
``Leave gold and myrrh and jewels, Rich table and soft bed,
To them who of man's seed are born, Whom woman's milk have
fed.
Thou wast not made for lucre, For pleasure, nor for rest;
Thou, that art sprung from the War-god's loins, And hast tugged
at the she-wolf's breast.
XV
``From sunrise unto sunset All earth shall hear thy fame:
A glorious city thou shalt build, And name it by thy name:
And there, unquenched through ages, Like Vesta's sacred fire,
Shall live the spirit of thy nurse, The spirit of thy sire.
XVI
``The ox toils through the furrow, Obedient to the goad;
The patient ass, up flinty paths, Plods with his weary load:
With whine and bound the spaniel His master's whistle hears;
And the sheep yields her patiently To the loud-clashing
shears.
XVII
``But thy nurse will hear no master, Thy nurse will bear no
load;
And woe to them that shear her, And woe to them that goad!
When all the pack, loud baying, Her bloody lair surrounds,
She dies in silence, biting hard, Amidst the dying hounds.
XVIII
Pomona loves the orchard; And Liber loves the vine;
And Pales loves the straw-built shed Warm with the breath of
kine;
And Venus loves the whispers Of plighted youth and maid,
In April's ivory moonlight Beneath the chestnut shade.
XIX
``But thy father loves the clashing Of broadsword and of
shield:
He loves to drink the steam that reeks From the fresh
battlefield:
He smiles a smile more dreadful Than his own dreadful frown,
When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke Go up from the
conquered town.
XX
``And such as is the War-god, The author of thy line,
And such as she who suckled thee, Even such be thou and
thine.
Leave to the soft Campanian His baths and his perfumes;
Leave to the sordid race of Tyre Their dyeing-vats and looms;
Leave to the sons of Carthage The rudder and the oar;
Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs And scrolls of wordy
lore.
XXI
``Thine, Roman, is the pilum: Roman, the sword is thine,
The even trench, the bristling mound, The legion's ordered
line;
And thine the wheels of triumph, Which with their laurelled
train
Move slowly up the shouting streets To Jove's eternal flame.
XXII
Beneath thy yoke the Volscian Shall vail his lofty brow;
Soft Capua's curled revellers Before thy chairs shall bow:
The Lucumoes of Arnus Shall quake thy rods to see;
And the proud Samnite's heart of steel Shall yield to only
thee.
XXIII
``The Gaul shall come against thee From the land of snow and
night;
Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies To the raven and the
kite.
XXIV
``The Greek shall come against thee, The conqueror of the
East.
Beside him stalks to battle The huge earth-shaking beast,
The beast on whom the castle With all its guards doth stand,
The beast who hath between his eyes The serpent for a hand.
First march the bold Epirotes, Wedged close with shield and
spear
And the ranks of false Tarentum Are glittering in the rear.
XXV
The ranks of false Tarentum Like hunted sheep shall fly:
In vain the bold Epirotes Shall round their standards die:
And Apennine's gray vultures Shall have a noble feast
On the fat and the eyes Of the the huge earth-shaking beast.
XXVI
``Hurrah! for the good weapons That keep the War-god's land.
Hurrah! for Rome's stout pilum In a stout Roman hand.
Hurrah! for Rome's short broadsword That through the thick
array
Of levelled spears and serried shields Hews deep its gory
way.
XXVII
``Hurrah! for the great triumph That stretches many a mile.
Hurrah! for the wan captives That pass in endless file.
Ho! bold Epirotes, whither Hath the Red King taken flight?
Ho! dogs of false Tarentum, Is not the gown washed white?
XXVIII
``Hurrah! for the great triumph That stretches many a mile.
Hurrah! for the rich dye of Tyre, And the fine web of Nile,
The helmets gay with plumage Torn from the pheasant's wings,
The belts set thick with starry gem That shone on Indian
kings,
The urns of massy silver, The goblets rough with gold,
The many-colored tablets bright With loves and wars of old,
The stone that breathes and struggles, The brass that seems to
speak;--
Such cunning they who dwell on high Have given unto the
Greek.
XXIX
``Hurrah! for Manius Curius, The bravest son of Rome,
Thrice in utmost need sent forth, Thrice drawn in triumph
home.
Weave, weave, for Manius Curius The third embroidered gown:
Make ready the third lofty car, And twine the third green
crown;
And yoke the steeds of Rosea With necks like a bended bow,
And deck the bull, Mevania's bull, The bull as white as snow.
XXX
``Blest and thrice blest the Roman Who sees Rome's brightest
day,
Who sees that long victorious pomp Wind down the Sacred Way,
And through the bellowing Forum, And round the Suppliant's
Grove,
Up to the everlasting gates Of Capitolian Jove.
XXXI
``Then where, o'er two bright havens, The towers of Corinth
frown;
Where the gigantic King of Day On his own Rhodes looks down;
Where oft Orontes murmurs Beneath the laurel shades;
Where Nile reflects the endless length Of dark red
colonnades;
Where in the still deep water, Sheltered from waves and
blasts,
Bristles the dusky forest Of Byrsa's thousand masts;
Where fur-clad hunters wander Amidst the northern ice;
Where through the sand of morning-land The camel bears the
spice;
Where Atlas flings his shadow Far o'er the western foam,
Shall be great fear on all who hear The might name of Rome.''