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.'

5. Round turned he, as not deigning

Those craven ranks to see;
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,

To Sextus naught 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:

6. 'O 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.

7. No sound of joy or sorrow,

Was heard from either bank;
But friends and foes, in dumb surprise,
With parted 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.

8. 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 armour,

And spent with changing blows;
And oft they thought him sinking,

But still again he rose.

9. 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.'

,

10. 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.
11. 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.

12. 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;

13. 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;

14. When the goodman mends his armour,

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.

Macaulay. loos'-ened Por'-sen-a cur'-rent

shut-tle tri'-umph sheathed ar'-mour

mer'-ri-ly con-stant Tus'-can-y vil-lain

laugh'-ter plied, used.

sacked, plundered. ath-wart', across.

feat, clever deed. deign'-ing, thinking it worth while. Al'-gi-dus, one of the Alban hills in crav'-en, cowardly.

Italy, at one time noted for its Pal-a-ti'-nus, one of the seven hills

EXERCISES. — 1. The Latin prefix (1) ultra- means beyond ; as ultramarine, beyond the sea ; Ultramontane, beyond the mountains. (2) Vicemeans in place of ; as vice-principal, one acting in place of the principal; viceroy, one acting in place of the king; vicegerent, one acting in place of a superior.

2. Analyse and parse the first four lines of stanza 6.

3. Make sentences of your own, and use in each one or more of the following words : Athwart, plied, feat, embers.

BATTLE OF PLASSEY. [This extract from Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive describes the battle of Plassey, in which Clive gained the victory over a native ruler named Surajah Dowlah, in 1757. This memorable victory laid the foundation of British power in India. Plassey, the scene of the battle, lies about ninety-six miles north of Calcutta. ]

1. Clive was in a painfully anxious situation. He could place no confidence in the sincerity or in the courage of his confederate; and, whatever confidence he might place in his own military talents, and in the valour and discipline of his troops, it was no light thing to engage an army twenty times as numerous as his own. Before him lay a river over which it was easy to advance, but over which, if things went ill, not one of his little band would ever return. On this occasion, for the first and for the last time, his dauntless spirit, during a few hours, shrank from the fearful responsibility of making a decision. He called a council of war.

2. The majority pronounced against fighting; and Clive declared his concurrence with the majority. Long afterwards, he said that he had never called but one council of war, and that, if he had taken the advice of that council, the British would never have been masters of Bengal. But scarcely had the meeting broken up when he was himself again. He retired alone under the shade of some trees, and passed near an hour there in thought. .

He came back determined to put everything to the hazard, and gave orders that all should be in readiness for passing the river on the morrow.

3. The river was passed; and at the close of a toilsome day's march, the army, long after sunset, took up its quarters in a grove of mango-trees near Plassey, within a mile of the enemy.

Clive was unable to sleep; he heard, through the whole night, the sound of drums and cymbals from the vast camp of the Nabob.

It is not strange that even his stout heart should now and then have sunk, when he reflected against what odds, and for what a prize, he was in a few hours to contend.

4. Nor was the rest of Surajah Dowlah more peaceful. His mind, at once weak and stormy, was distracted by wild and horrible apprehensions. Appalled by the greatness and nearness of the crisis, distrusting his captains, dreading every one who approached him, dreading to be left alone, he sat gloomily in his tent, haunted, a Greek poet would have said, by the furies of those who had cursed him with their last breath in the Black Hole.

5. The day broke, the day which was to decide the fate of India. At sunrise the army of the Nabob, pouring through many openings from the camp, began to move towards the grove where the English lay. Forty thousand infantry, armed with firelocks, pikes, swords, bows and arrows, covered the plain. They were accompanied by fifty pieces of ordnance of the largest size, each tugged by a long team of white oxen, and each pushed on from behind by an elephant. Some smaller