Lyra Heroica Part 27

But now no stroke of woodman Is heard by Auser's rill; No hunter tracks the stag's green path Up the Ciminian hill; Unwatched along c.l.i.tumnus Grazes the milk-white steer; Unharmed the water-fowl may dip In the Volsinian mere.

The harvests of Arretium This year old men shall reap; This year young boys in Umbro Shall plunge the struggling sheep; And in the vats of Luna This year the must shall foam Round the white feet of laughing girls Whose sires have marched to Rome.

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 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 altars The golden s.h.i.+elds of Rome.'

And now hath every city Sent up her tale of men; The foot are fourscore thousand, The horse are thousands ten.

Before the gates of Sutrium 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 name.

THE TROUBLE IN ROME

But by the yellow Tiber Was tumult and affright: From all the s.p.a.cious champaign 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 folk 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 sun-burned 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 waggons That creaked beneath the weight Of corn-sacks and of household goods, Choked every roaring gate.

Now from the rock Tarpeian Could the wan burghers spy The line of blazing villages Red in the midnight sky.

The Fathers of the City, 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 Hath wasted all the plain; Astur hath stormed Janiculum, And the stout guards are slain.

I wis, 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, Up rose 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, Nought 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.

And plainly and more plainly Now might the burghers know, By port and vest, by horse and crest, Each warlike Luc.u.mo.

There Cilnius of Arretium On his fleet roan was seen; And Astur of the fourfold s.h.i.+eld, Girt with the brand none else may wield, Tolumnius with the belt of gold, And dark Verbenna from the hold By reedy Thrasymene.

Fast by the royal standard O'erlooking all the war, Lars Porsena of Clusium Sate in his ivory car.

By the right wheel rode Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; And by the left false s.e.xtus, That wrought the deed of shame.

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

On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards 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, 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 Heminius, 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.

Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great: Then lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.

Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low.

As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold: Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old.

THE KEEPING OF THE BRIDGE

Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe: And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below.

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flas.h.i.+ng back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold.

Four hundred trumpets sounded 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.

The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose: And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their s.h.i.+elds, and flew To win the narrow way;

Aunus from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Va.s.sal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that grey crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar.

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath: 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 Clashed in the b.l.o.o.d.y dust.

Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus of Urgo, The rover of the sea; And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's sh.o.r.e.

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 The track of thy destroying bark.

No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice-accursed sail.'

But now no sound of laughter Was heard amongst the foes.

A wild and wrathful clamour From all the vanguard rose.

Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, And for a s.p.a.ce no man came forth To win the narrow way.