Short time was there, ye may well guess, Lars Porsena of Clusium 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, The consul fix'd his eye, And saw the swarthy storm of dust And nearer fast and nearer Sat in his ivory car. By the right wheel rode Mamilius But when the face of Sextus Was seen among the foes, A yell that rent the firmament From all the town arose. On the housetops was no woman But spat toward him and hiss'd, No child but scream'd out curses, And shook its little fist. But the consul's brow was sad, And the consul's speech was low, Before the bridge goes down; 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 gods? And for the tender mother Who feed the eternal flame, "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 stopp'd 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 HerminiusOf Titian 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 Went forth 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 help'd the poor, And the poor man loved the great; Then lands were fairly portion'd; 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, In battle we wax cold; Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old. Now while the three were tightening Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Roll'd slowly toward the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless three. The three stood calm and silent, From all the vanguard rose: To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew Aunus, from green Tifernum, Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag, where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. |