BUT, meanwhile axe and lever | |
| Have manfully been plied; | |
| And now the bridge hangs tottering | |
| Above the boiling tide. | |
| “Come back, come back Horatius!” | 5 |
| Loud cried the Fathers all; | |
| “Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! | |
| Back, ere the ruin fall!” | |
| |
| Back darted Spurius Lartius, | |
| Herminius darted back; | 10 |
| And as they passed beneath their feet | |
| They felt the timbers crack. | |
| But when they turned their faces, | |
| And on the farther shore | |
| Saw brave Horatius stand alone, | 15 |
| They would have crossed once more; | |
| |
| But with a crash like thunder | |
| Fell every loosened beam, | |
| And like a dam the mighty wreck | |
| Lay right athwart the stream: | 20 |
| And a long shout of triumph | |
| Rose from the walls of Rome, | |
| As to the highest turret-tops | |
| Was splashed the yellow foam. | |
| |
| And like a horse unbroken | 25 |
| 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; | 30 |
| And whirling down in fierce career | |
| Battlement and plank and pier, | |
| Rushed headlong to the sea. | |
| |
| Alone stood brave Horatius, | |
| But constant still in mind; | 35 |
| 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, | 40 |
| “Now yield thee to our grace.” | |
| |
| Round turned he, as not deigning | |
| Those craven ranks to see; | |
| Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, | |
| To Sextus naught spake he; | 45 |
| But he saw on Palatinus | |
| The white porch of his home; | |
| And he spake to the noble river | |
| That rolls by the towers of Rome: | |
| |
| “O, Tiber! Father Tiber! | 50 |
| To whom the Romans pray, | |
| A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms, | |
| Take thou in charge this day!” | |
| So he spake, and, speaking, sheathéd | |
| The good sword by his side, | 55 |
| And with his harness on his back | |
| Plunged headlong in the tide. | |
| |
| No sound of joy or sorrow | |
| Was heard from either bank; | |
| But friends and foes in dumb surprise, | 60 |
| 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, | 65 |
| And even the ranks of Tuscany | |
| Could scarce forbear to cheer. | |
| |
| But fiercely ran the current, | |
| Swollen high by months of rain: | |
| And fast his blood was flowing; | 70 |
| 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. | 75 |
| |
| 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 | 80 |
| By the brave heart within, | |
| And our good Father Tiber | |
| Bare bravely up his chin. | |
| |
| “Curse on him!” quoth false Sextus; | |
| “Will not the villain drown? | 85 |
| 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 | 90 |
| Was never seen before.” | |
| |
| And now he feels the bottom; | |
| Now on dry earth he stands; | |
| Now round him throng the Fathers | |
| To press his gory hands; | 95 |
| And now with shouts and clapping, | |
| And noise of weeping loud, | |
| He enters through the river-gate, | |
| Borne by the joyous crowd. | |
| |
| They gave him of the corn-land, | 100 |
| That was of public right, | |
| As much as two strong oxen | |
| Could plough from morn till night; | |
| And they made a molten image, | |
| And set it up on high, | 105 |
| And there it stands unto this day | |
| To witness if I lie. | |
| |
| It stands in the Comitium, | |
| Plain for all folk to see; | |
| Horatius in his harness, | 110 |
| 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. | 115 |
| |
