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-accursed sail."
But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes. A wild and wrathful clamour From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' length from the entrance Halted that deep array,
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 four-fold 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 miss'd his helm, but gash'd 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 Alvernus 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 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.
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;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus nought 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,
"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,
But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parting 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 :
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