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HORATIUS.

A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.

1.

LARS PORSENA of Clusium

By the Nine Gods he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. By the Nine Gods he swore it,

And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array.

2.

East and west and south and north
The messengers ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan

Who lingers in his home,
When Porsena of Clusium
Is on the march for Rome.

3.

The horsemen and the footmen
Are pouring in amain

From many a stately market-place,
From many a fruitful plain;
From many a lonely hamlet,

Which, hid by beech and pine,

Like an eagle's nest hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine;

4.

From lordly Volaterræ,

Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants For god-like kings of old; From seagirt Populonia, Whose sentinels descry Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops Fringing the southern sky;

5.

From the proud mart of Pisa,
Queen of the western waves,
Where ride Massilia's triremes
Heavy with fair-haired slaves;
From where sweet Clanis wanders
Through corn, and vines, and flowers;
From where Cortona lifts to heaven
Her diadem of towers.

6.

Tall are the oaks whose acorns

Drop in dark Auser's rill;

Fat are the stags that champ the boughs Of the Ciminian hill;

Beyond all streams Clitumnus

Is to the herdsman dear;

Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere.

7.

But now no stroke of woodman Is heard by Auser's rill,

No hunter tracks the stag's green path

Up the Ciminian hill;

Unwatched along Clitumnus
Grazes the milk-white steer;
Unharmed the water-fowl may dip
In the Volsinian mere.

8.

The harvests of Arretium

This year old men shall reap; This year young boys in Umbro Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna,

This year, the must shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome.

9.

There be thirty chosen prophets,
The wisest of the land,
Who alway by Lars Porsena

Both morn and evening stand:
Evening and morn the Thirty

Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white By mighty seers of yore.

10.

And with one voice the Thirty

Have their glad answer given: "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena, Go forth, beloved of Heaven; Go, and return in glory

To Clusium's royal dome, And hang round Nurscia's altars The golden shields of Rome."

11.

And now hath every city

Sent up her tale of men: The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium

Is met the great array, A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day.

12.

For all the Etruscan armies
Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman,
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamilius,

Prince of the Latian name.

13.

But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city,

The throng stopped up the ways;

A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.

14.

For aged folk on crutches,

And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled, And sick men borne in litters

High on the necks of slaves, And troops of sun-burned husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves,

15.

And droves of mules and asses

Laden with skins of wine,

And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine,
And endless trains of wagons

That creaked beneath their weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate.

16.

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy

The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the City,

'They sat all night and day,

For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay.

17.

To eastward and to westward

Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote, In Crustumerium stands. Verbenna down to Ostia

Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum, And the stout guards are slain. 18.

I wis, in all the Senate,

There was no heart so bold,
But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
When that ill news was told.
Forthwith up rose the Consul,
Up rose the Fathers all;

In haste they girded up their gowns,
And hied them to the wall.

19.

They held a council standing
Before the River-gate;

Short time was there, ye well may guess,
For musing or debate.

Out spoke the Consul roundly:

"The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost,

Naught else can gave the town."

20

Just then a scout came flying,

All wild with haste and fear: "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; Lars Porsena is here."

On the low hills to westward

The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust Bise fast along the sky.

21.

And nearer fast and nearer

Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling and the hum. And plainly and more plainly

Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right,

In broken gleams of dark-blue light, The long array of helmets bright, The long array of spears.

22.

And plainly and more plainly,

Above that glimmering line, Now might ye see the banners

Of twelve fair cities shine; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, The terror of the Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul.

23.

And plainly and more plainly
Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest, by horse and crest,
Each warlike Lucumo.

There Cilnius of Arretium

On his fleet roan was seen;

And Astur of the fourfold shield,

Girt with the brand none else may wield,
Tolumnius with the belt of gold,
And dark Verbenna from the hold
By reedy Thrasymene.

24.

Fast by the royal standard,
O'erlooking all the war,
Lars Porsena of Clusium
Sate in his ivory car.
By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name;
And by the left false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame.

25.

But when the face of Sextus

Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose.

On the house-tops was no woman But spate towards him and hissed; No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist.

26.

But the Consul's brow was sad,
And the Consul's speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
"Their van will be upon us

Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?"

27.

Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the gate:

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"To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods,

28.

"And for the tender mother
Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses
His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens

Who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus
That wrought the deed of shame?

29.

"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,

With all the speed ye may;

I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.

In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.

Now, who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?"

30.

Then out spake Spurius Lartius, A Ramnian proud was he: "Lo, I will stand on thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Herminius, Of Titian blood was he: "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee." 31.

"Horatius," quoth the Consul,

"As thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, In the brave days of old.

32.

Then none was for a party;

Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great: Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.

33.

Now Roman is to Roman

More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low.

As we wax hot in faction,

HORATIUS.

In battle we wax cold; Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old.

34.

Now, while the Three were tightening
Their harness on their backs,

The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe;

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"Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!

To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
Take thou in charge this day!"
So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The good sword by his side,
And, with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in the tide.
60.

No sound of joy or sorrow

Was heard from either bank;

But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges

They saw his crest appear,

All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer.

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