Horatius

Lars Porsena of Clusium, by the nine Gods he swore

That the great house of Tarquin, should suffer wrong no more

By the nine Gods he swore it, and named a trysting day

And bade his messengers ride forth, to summon his array

East and West and South and North to summon his array

A mile around the city, the throng stopped up the ways

A fearful sight it was to see, through two long nights and days

Out spake the Consul roundly

“The bridge must straight go down

For, since Janiculum is lost, nought else can 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 gods”

Standeth our tryptic of braved souls to hold fast the way

Approacheth the mighty Tuscan hoard

Led by Astur, to do battle this day

All appeareth lost on the bridge

And in a far off land a dwarf did weep

Lord of Luna with sword to the thigh

Cuts Horatius deep to the bone he might die

But Herminius retaliates

Swift of blow knife plunged deep in his face and he dies

But meanwhile axe and lever, have manfully been plied

And now the bridge hands tottering, above the boiling tide

But when they turned their faces, and on the farther shore

Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more

And now with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud

He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous crowd

With weeping and with laughter, still is the story told

How well Horatius kept the bridge, in the brave days of old