Volume Iii Part 3 (2/2)
On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel.
”And see,” he cried, ”the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here!
What n.o.ble Luc.u.mo comes next To taste our Roman cheer?”
But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race; For all Etruria's n.o.blest Were round the fatal place.
But all Etruria's n.o.blest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the b.l.o.o.d.y corpses, In the path the dauntless Three.
And from the ghastly entrance Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, 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 Stood out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud.
”Now welcome, welcome, s.e.xtus!
Now welcome to thy home!
Why dost thou stay, and turn away, Here lies the road to Rome.”
Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice 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 of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.
But meanwhile ax 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 Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they pa.s.sed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces, And on the farther sh.o.r.e 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, 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; And whirling down, in fierce career, Battlement, and plank, and pier, Rushed headlong to the sea.
Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind.
”Down with him!” cried false s.e.xtus, 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 s.e.xtus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the n.o.ble river That rolls by the towers of Rome.
”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.
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.
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 armor, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose.
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