In broken gleams of dark-blue light, [Here Horatius, Lartius, and Herminius undertake to keep back the enemy from passing the bridge till it can be hewn down.] Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Came flashing back the noonday light, As that great host, with measured tread, The Three stood calm and silent, Before that mighty mass; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, To win the narrow pass. [Several of the Tuscan chiefs try to force the passage, but are slain Horatius and his companions.] But all Etruria's noblest 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. Was none who would be foremost But those behind cried "Forward!" And on the tossing sea of steel, But meanwhile axe and lever And now the bridge hangs tottering "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Loud cried the Fathers all. 'Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! Back darted Spurius Lartius; And, as they passed, beneath their feet But with a crash like thunder And, like a horse unbroken And whirling down, in fierce career, Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. "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." Round turned he, as not deigning The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. "Oh, Tiber! father Tiber! 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. But fiercely ran the current, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, Never, I ween, did swimmer, Struggle through such a raging flood, And our good father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin. "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." And now he feels the bottom; They gave him of the corn-land, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night; |