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.

Fast by the royal standard,

O'erlooking all the war,

Lars Porsena of Clusium

Sat in his ivory car.

By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name;

And by the left false Sextus,

That wrought the deed of shame.

But when the face of Sextus

Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the housetops was no woman

But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist.

But the consul's brow was sad,

And the consul's speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe:
"Their van will be upon us

Before the bridge goes down;

And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?"

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The captain of the gate:
"To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better

Than facing fearful odds
For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods?

"And for the tender mother
Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses
His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens

Who feed the eternal flame -
To save them from false Sextus
That wrought the deed of shame?
"Hew down the bridge, sir consul,
With all the speed ye may;
1, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play-
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?"

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 clamor

From all the vanguard rose.

Six spears' lengths 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 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 thighThe 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.

There lacked not men of prowess,

Nor men of lordly race;

For all Etruria's noblest
Were round the fatal place.

But all Etruria's noblest

Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloody corpses,
In the path the dauntless three;
And from the ghastly entrance,

Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank-like boys who, unaware,
Ranging a wood to start a hare,
Come to the mouth of the dark lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
Lies amidst bones and blood.

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 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, But still again he rose.

Never, I ween, did swimmer,

In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood
Safe to the landing place;

But his limbs were borne up bravely
By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber

Bare 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;

66

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;

And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the river-gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.

They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,

As much as two strong oxen

Could plough from morn till night; And they made a molten image,

And set it up on high-
And there it stands unto this day
To witness if I lie.

It stands in the comitium,
Plain for all folk to see,-

Horatius in his harness,
Halting upon one knee;
And underneath is written,

In letters all of gold,

How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old.

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
In the brave days of old.

And in the nights of winter,

When the cold north winds blow,
And the long howling of the wolves
Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lonely cottage
Roars loud the tempest's din,
And the good logs of Algidus
Roar louder yet within;

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit;

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,
And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armor,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,

How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

353

LORD MACAULAY.

The Mestruction of Sennacherib.

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the

sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath flown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.