Before the gates of Sutrium

Is met the great array;

A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting-day.

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.

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.

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 sunburned husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves,

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 the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate.

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.

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.

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.

Out spake 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 Consul,
Lars 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.

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 trumpets' 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

And the great lord of Luna

Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Avernus
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.

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 noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?"

But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran,

Mingled with wrath and shame and dread,
Along that glittering van.

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."

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 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 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 ;

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 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 :

"O 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