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,

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

34.

No,w, while the Three were tightening
Their harness on their backs,
The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe;

From Ostia's walls the crowd shail mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania's hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursed sail."

41.

But now no sound of laughter

Was heard amongst the foes. A wild and wrathful clamour

From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that mighty mass, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow pass.

42.

But hark! the cry is Astur:

And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna

Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Va 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
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?"

44. Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, 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,
Sprang right at Astur's face.

Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,
So fierce a thrust he sped,
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan's head.

46. And the great Lord of Luna

Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus

A thunder-smitten oak. Far o'er the crashing forest

The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.

47. fin Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly ussed his heel,

54.

Back darted Spurius Lartius;
Herminius darted back:

And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,
And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
They would have crossed once more.

55.

But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam,
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream:
And a long shout of triumph

Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops
Was splashed the yellow foam.

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,
But constant still in mind;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
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."

61.

But fiercely ran the current,
Swollen high by months of rain:
And fast his blood was flowing;
And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armour,

And spent with changing blows:
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.

62.

Never, I ween, did swimmer,
In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood
Safe to the landing place:

But his limbs were borne up bravely
By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber
Bare bravely up his chin.❤

548

Yet through good heart and our lady's grace, At length he gained the landing-place.

Lay of the Last Minstrel, 1.

67.

Ard still his name sounds stirring
Unto the men of Rome,

As the trumpet blast that cries to them
To charge the Volscian home;
And wives still pray to Juno

For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well
In the brave days of old.

68.

And in the nights of winter,

When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves

Is heard amidst the snow; When round the lonely cottage

Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within;

69.

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit,
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle

Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

70.

When the goodman mends his armour,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,

How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.