Journeys Through Bookland Volume Vi Part 1

Journeys Through Bookland.

Vol. 6.

by Charles H. Sylvester.

HORATIUS

_By_ LORD MACAULAY

NOTE.--This spirited poem by Lord Macaulay is founded on one of the most popular Roman legends. While the story is based on facts, we can by no means be certain that all of the details are historical.

According to Roman legendary history, the Tarquins, Lucius Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, were among the early kings of Rome. The reign of the former was glorious, but that of the latter was most unjust and tyrannical. Finally the unscrupulousness of the king and his son reached such a point that it became unendurable to the people, who in 509 B. C. rose in rebellion and drove the entire family from Rome. Tarquinius Superbus appealed to Lars Porsena, the powerful king of Clusium for aid and the story of the expedition against Rome is told in this poem.

Lars Porsena of Clusium[1-1]

By the Nine G.o.ds[1-2] he swore That the great house of Tarquin Should suffer wrong no more.

By the Nine G.o.ds he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth East and west and south and north, To summon his array.

East and west and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast.

Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome.

The hors.e.m.e.n and the footmen Are pouring in amain From many a stately market-place; From many a fruitful plain.

From many a lonely hamlet, Which, hid by beech and pine, Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest Of purple Apennine;

There be thirty chosen prophets, The wisest of the land, Who alway by Lars Porsena Both morn and evening stand: Evening and morn the Thirty Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white[2-3]

By mighty seers of yore.

And with one voice the Thirty Have their glad answer given: "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena; Go forth, beloved of Heaven: Go, and return in glory To Clusium's royal dome; And hang round Nurscia's[3-4] altars The golden s.h.i.+elds of Rome."

And now hath every city Sent up her tale[3-5] of men: The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousand ten.

Before the gates of Sutrium[3-6]

Is met the great array.

A proud man was Lars Porsena Upon the trysting day.

For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye, And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally; And with a mighty following To join the muster came The Tusculan Mamilius, Prince of the Latian[3-7] name.

But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the s.p.a.cious champaign[3-8]

To Rome men took their flight.

A mile around the city, The throng stopped up the ways; A fearful sight it was to see Through two long nights and days.

For aged folks on crutches, And women great with child, And mothers sobbing over babes That clung to them and smiled, And sick men borne in litters High on the necks of slaves, And troops of sunburnt husbandmen With reaping-hooks and staves,

And droves of mules and a.s.ses Laden with skins of wine, And endless flocks of goats and sheep, And endless herds of kine, And endless trains of wagons That creaked beneath the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate.

Now, from the rock Tarpeian[4-9]

Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky.

The Fathers of the City,[5-10]

They sat all night and day, For every hour some horseman came With tidings of dismay.

To eastward and to westward Have spread the Tuscan bands; Nor house nor fence nor dovecote In Crustumerium stands.

Verbenna down to Ostia[5-11]

Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum,[5-12]

And the stout guards are slain.

Iwis,[5-13] in all the Senate, There was no heart so bold, But sore it ached, and fast it beat, When that ill news was told.

Forthwith up rose the Consul,[5-14]

Uprose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall.

They held a council standing Before the River-Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate.

Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go down; For since Janiculum is lost, Naught else can save the town."

Just then a scout came flying, All wild with haste and fear; "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here."

On the low hills to westward The Consul fixed his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust Rise fast along the sky.

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 trumpet's 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 s.h.i.+ne; But the banner of proud Clusium Was highest of them all, The terror of the Umbrian, The terror of the Gaul.

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 s.e.xtus,[7-15]

That wrought the deed of shame.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LONG ARRAY OF HELMETS BRIGHT]

But when the face of s.e.xtus Was seen among the foes, A yell that bent the firmament From all the town arose.

On the house-tops was no woman But spat toward 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 G.o.ds,

"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,[8-16]

To save them from false s.e.xtus That wrought the deed of shame?

"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, 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?"

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; Of t.i.tian blood was he: "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee."

"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be."

And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three.

For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, In the brave days of old.