Lays of Ancient Rome Part 10

IV

They were doomed by a b.l.o.o.d.y king, They were doomed by a lying priest, They were cast on the raging flood, They were tracked by the raging beast; Raging beast and raging flood Alike have spared the prey; And to-day the dead are living, The lost are found to-day.

V

The troubled river knew them, And smoothed his yellow foam, And gently rocked the cradle That bore the fate of Rome.

The ravening she-wolf knew them, And licked them o'er and o'er, And gave them of her own fierce milk, Rich with raw flesh and gore.

Twenty winters, twenty springs, Since then have rolled away; And to-day the dead are living: The lost are found to-day.

VI

Blithe it was to see the twins, Right goodly youths and tall, Marching from Alba Longa To their old grandsire's hall.

Along their path fresh garlands Are hung from tree to tree: Before them stride the pipers, Piping a note of glee.

VII

On the right goes Romulus, With arms to the elbows red, And in his hand a broadsword, And on the blade a head-- A head in an iron helmet, With horse-hair hanging down, A s.h.a.ggy head, a swarthy head, Fixed in a ghastly frown-- The head of King Amulius Of the great Sylvian line, Who reigned in Alba Longa, On the throne of Aventine.

VIII

On the left side goes Remus, With wrists and fingers red, And in his hand a boar-spear, And on the point a head-- A wrinkled head and aged, With silver beard and hair, And holy fillets round it, Such as the pontiffs wear-- The head of ancient Camers, Who spake the words of doom: "The children to the Tiber; The mother to the tomb."

IX

Two and two behind the twins Their trusty comrades go, Four and forty valiant men, With club, and axe, and bow.

On each side every hamlet Pours forth its joyous crowd, Shouting lads and baying dogs, And children laughing loud, And old men weeping fondly As Rhea's boys go by, And maids who shriek to see the heads, Yet, shrieking, press more nigh.

X

So marched they along the lake; They marched by fold and stall, By cornfield and by vineyard, Unto the old man's hall.

XI

In the hall-gate sat Capys, Capys, the sightless seer; From head to foot he trembled As Romulus drew near.

And up stood stiff his thin white hair, And his blind eyes flashed fire: "Hail! foster child of the wondrous nurse!

Hail! son of the wondrous sire!"

XII

"But thou--what dost thou here In the old man's peaceful hall?

What doth the eagle in the coop, The bison in the stall?

Our corn fills many a garner; Our vines clasp many a tree; Our flocks are white on many a hill: But these are not for thee.

XIII

"For thee no treasure ripens In the Tartessian mine; For thee no ship brings precious bales Across the Libyan brine; Thou shalt not drink from amber; Thou shalt not rest on down; Arabia shall not steep thy locks, Nor Sidon tinge thy gown.

XIV

"Leave gold and myrrh and jewels, Rich table and soft bed, To them who of man's seed are born, Whom woman's milk have fed.

Thou wast not made for lucre, For pleasure, nor for rest; Thou, that art sprung from the War-G.o.d's loins, And hast tugged at the she-wolf's breast.

XV

"From sunrise unto sunset All earth shall hear thy fame: A glorious city thou shalt build, And name it by thy name: And there, unquenched through ages, Like Vesta's sacred fire, Shall live the spirit of thy nurse, The spirit of thy sire.

XVI

"The ox toils through the furrow, Obedient to the goad; The patient a.s.s, up flinty paths, Plods with his weary load: With whine and bound the spaniel His master's whistle hears; And the sheep yields her patiently To the loud-clashing shears.

XVII

"But thy nurse will hear no master, Thy nurse will bear no load; And woe to them that shear her, And woe to them that goad!

When all the pack, loud baying, Her b.l.o.o.d.y lair surrounds, She dies in silence, biting hard, Amidst the dying hounds.

XVIII

"Pomona loves the orchard; And Liber loves the vine; And Pales loves the straw-built shed Warm with the breath of kine; And Venus loves the whispers Of plighted youth and maid, In April's ivory moonlight Beneath the chestnut shade.

XIX

"But thy father loves the clashing Of broadsword and of shield: He loves to drink the steam that reeks From the fresh battlefield: He smiles a smile more dreadful Than his own dreadful frown, When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke Go up from the conquered town.

XX

"And such as is the War-G.o.d, The author of thy line, And such as she who suckled thee, Even such be thou and thine.

Leave to the soft Campanian His baths and his perfumes; Leave to the sordid race of Tyre Their dyeing-vats and looms; Leave to the sons of Carthage The rudder and the oar; Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs And scrolls of wordy lore.

XXI

"Thine, Roman, is the pilum: Roman, the sword is thine, The even trench, the bristling mound, The legion's ordered line; And thine the wheels of triumph, Which with their laurelled train Move slowly up the shouting streets To Jove's eternal flame.

XXII

"Beneath thy yoke the Volscian Shall vail his lofty brow; Soft Capua's curled revellers Before thy chairs shall bow: The Luc.u.moes of Arnus Shall quake thy rods to see; And the proud Samnite's heart of steel Shall yield to only thee.

XXIII

"The Gaul shall come against thee From the land of snow and night; Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies To the raven and the kite.

XXIV

"The Greek shall come against thee, The conqueror of the East.

Beside him stalks to battle The huge earth-shaking beast, The beast on whom the castle With all its guards doth stand, The beast who hath between his eyes The serpent for a hand.

First march the bold Epirotes, Wedged close with shield and spear And the ranks of false Tarentum Are glittering in the rear.

XXV