XVII.

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.

XVIII.

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.

XIX.

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,

Nought else can save the town."

XX.

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.

XXI.

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 trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly

Now through the gloom appears,