"To every man upon this earth XXVIII "And for the tender mother Who feed the eternal flame, To save them from false Sextus That wrought the deed of shame? XXIX "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, May well be stopped by three: Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?" XXX Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramnian proud was he: "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Herminius; "I will abide on thy left side, XXXI "Horatius," quoth the Consul, XXXII Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, XXXIII Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, In battle we wax cold: Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old. XXXIV Now while the Three were tightening And Fathers, mixed with Commons, XXXV Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Came flashing back the noonday light, A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three. XXXVI The Three stood calm and silent, From all the vanguard rose: And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, XXXVII Aunus from green Tifernum, And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. XXXVIII Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms XXXIX Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three: And Lausulus of Urgo, The great wild boar that had his den And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, XL Herminius smote down Aruns: Lartius laid Ocnus low: 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 XLI But now no sound of laughter And for a space no man came forth |