9434 But when they turned their faces, They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, 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, And whirling down, in fierce career, Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, Round turned he, as not deigning The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river "O Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray; A Roman's life, a Roman's arms So he spake, and speaking sheathed No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 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, Never, I ween, did swimmer, Struggle through such a raging flood But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within, And our good father Tiber Bore 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; 9435 And now, with shouts and clapping, They gave him of the corn-land, As much as two strong oxen Could plow from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And there it stands unto this day It stands in the Comitium, Plain for all folk to see,Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee; How valiantly he kept the bridge 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 And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, Roars loud the tempest's din, When the oldest cask is opened, 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, When the goodman mends his armor, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. 9437 THE BATTLE OF IVRY [Henry the Fourth, on his accession to the French crown, was opposed by a large part of his subjects under the Duke of Mayenne, with the assistance of Spain and Savoy. In March 1590 he gained a decisive victory over that party at Ivry. Before the battle, he addressed his troops - "My children, if you lose sight of your colors, rally to my white plume: you will always find it in the path to honor and glory." His conduct was answerable to his promise. Nothing could resist his impetuous valor, and the Leaguers underwent a total and bloody defeat. In the midst of the rout, Henry followed, crying, "Save the French!" and his clemency added a number of the enemies to his own army.] ow glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! Now And glory to our Sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre! Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, Through thy cornfields green and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. Oh, how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, The King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre." Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin! Now, God be praised, the day is ours! Mayenne hath turned his rein; Right well fought all the Frenchmen who fought for France that day; And many a lordly banner God gave them for a prey. But we of the Religion have borne us best in fight, Up with it high; unfurl it wide, that all the world may know How God hath humbled the proud house that wrought his Church such woe. |