Holiday Stories for Young People Part 18

XLIX.

But all Etruria's n.o.blest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the b.l.o.o.d.y corpses, In the path of the dauntless Three; And, from the ghastly entrance Where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who, unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood.

L.

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.

LI.

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, s.e.xtus!

Now welcome to thy home!

Why dost thou stay and turn away?

Here lies the road to Rome."

LII.

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.

LIII.

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!"

LIV.

Back darted Spurius Lartius, Herminius darted back; And, as they pa.s.sed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack.

But when they turned their faces, And on the farther sh.o.r.e Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more.

LV.

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.

LVI.

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.

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 s.e.xtus, 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 Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To s.e.xtus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home, And he spake to the n.o.ble river That rolls by the towers of Rome:

LIX.

"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.

LX.

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.

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, 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 Bore bravely up his chin.

LXIII.

"Curse on him!" quoth false s.e.xtus; "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 sh.o.r.e; For such a gallant feat of arms Was never seen before."

LXIV.

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.

LXV.

They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plow 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; And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old.

LXVII.

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.

LXVIII.

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;

LXIX.

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;