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 :