And whirling down, in fierce career, LVII Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; 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. LVIII Round turned he, as not deigning The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome: LIX "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. LX No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. LXI But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain: 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. LXII Never, I ween, did swimmer, 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 Bore bravely up his chin. LXIII. "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; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before." LXIV And now he feels the bottom: Now on dry earth he stands; And now, with shouts and clapping, LXV They gave him of the corn-land. 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. LXVI It stands in the Comitium, Plain for all folk to see; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee: How valiantly he kept the bridge LXVII And still his name sounds stirring As the trumpet-blast that cries to them For boys with hearts as bold When the oldest cask is opened, When the chestnuts glow in the embers, When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; LXX When the goodman mends his armor, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. Thomas Babington Macaulay THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART I It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. "By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, The guests are met, the feast is set: He holds him with his skinny hand, “Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!" Eftsoons his hand dropt he. An ancient Mari- |