From Ostia's walls the crowd shail mark 41. But now no sound of laughter From all the vanguard rose. But hark! the cry is Astur: Comes with his stately stride. Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield. 43. He smiled on those bold Romans If Astur clears the way?" 44. Then, whirling up his broadsword He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow. 45. He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, The good sword stood a hand-breadth out 46. And the great Lord of Luna The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head. 47. fn Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly ussed his heel, 54. Back darted Spurius Lartius; And, as they passed, beneath their feet They would have crossed once more. 55. But with a crash like thunder Rose from the walls of Rome, 56. And like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane; And burst the curb, and bounded, Rejoicing to be free; And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea. 57. Alone stood brave Horatius, And the broad flood behind. "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "Now yield thee to our grace." 58. Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. 59. "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, Flunged 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. VOL. IV.-69 |