Horatius at the Bridge

LARSPORSENAOfClusium, By the nine gods he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more. By the nine gods he swore it, Andnamed a trysting-day, Andbade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array. 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! There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land, Who always by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand. HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE Evening and morn the thirty Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white Bymighty seers of yore And with one voice the thirty Have their glad answer given "Go forth, go forth , Lars PorsenaGo 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 !" 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 Aproud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting-day. 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. HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE 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. They held a council, standing Before the river-gate ; Short time was there, ye well may guess. For musing or debate. Outspake the consul roundly : " The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost, Naught else can save the town." Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear : "To arms ! to arms ! sir consulLars Porsena is here. " On the low hills to westward The consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky. 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; HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town?" Then outspake brave Horatius, The captain of the gate : "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? "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 flameTo save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame? "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?" Then outspake Spurius LartiusARamnian proud was he: "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee. " HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE And outspake strong Herminius- Of Titian blood was he: "I will abide on thy left side, Andkeep the bridge with thee." The three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, Andagreat shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose ; And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way. Aunus, from green Tifernum, Lord of the hill of vines ; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines ; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath; Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth ; At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust. Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman three ; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar- The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore. Herminius smote down Aruns ; Lartius laid Ocnus low; Right to the heart of Lausulus Horatius sent a blow: " Lie there, " he cried, "fell pirate ! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark; No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns, when they spy Thy thrice-accurséd sail ! " But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes ; Awild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose Six spears' lengths from the entrance, Halted that deep array, HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow way. 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 Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield. 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? " 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. HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE 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 ahandbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. And the great lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Avernus Athunder-smitten oak. Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head. On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel, Andthrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. "And see," he cried, "the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! What noble Lucumo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?" But at his haughty challenge Asullen murmur ran, Mingled with wrath and shame and dread, Along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race, HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place. But all Etruria's noblest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless three ; And from the ghastly entrance, Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank-like boys who, unaware, Ranging a wood to start ahare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood. Was none who would be foremost To lead such dire attack; But those behind cried "Forward!" And those before cried "Back!" And backward now, and forward, Wavers the deep array; And on the tossing sea of steel To and fro the standards reel, And the victorious trumpet-peal Dies fitfully away. Yet one man for one moment Strode out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the three, And they gave him greeting loud: "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus ! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? Here lies the road to Rome." HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; Andthrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread; And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool ofblood, The bravest Tuscans lay. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. "Come back, come back, Horatius !" Loud cried the fathers all- "Back, Lartius ! back, Herminius ! Back, ere the ruin fall !" Back darted Spurius LartiusHerminius 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; 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, HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. 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 ; Andwhirling down, in fierce career, Battlement and plank and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea. Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mindThrice 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!" 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: "OTiber! Father Tiber ! To whom the Romans pray, HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE ARoman'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. 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, Andeven the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain, And fast his blood was flowing; Andhe was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, And spent with changing blows; And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. 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, HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE And our good Father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin. "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus- "Will not the villain drown? But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town!" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands ; Now round him throng the fathers To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the river-gate, Borne by the joyous crowd. They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on highAnd there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie. It stands in the comitium, Plain for all folk to see381 HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee; And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old. And 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. 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 the louder yet within; 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 ; AFTER BLENHEIM When the goodman mends his armor, 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.