School Reading by Grades: Sixth Year Part 3

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 Herminius,-- Of t.i.tian blood was he: "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee."

"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou say'st, so let it be."

And straight against that great array Forth went the dauntless Three.

Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold.

Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three.

The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose.

And forth three chiefs came spurring Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way.

Annus from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Va.s.sal 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.

Stout Lartius hurled down Annus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the b.l.o.o.d.y dust.

And now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes.

A wild and wrathful clamor From all the vanguard rose.

Six spears' length from the entrance Halted that mighty ma.s.s, And for a s.p.a.ce no man came forth To win the narrow pa.s.s.

But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride.

Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield.

He smiled on those bold Romans A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye.

Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay: But will ye dare to follow, If Astur clears the way?"

Then whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, And smote with all his might.

With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow.

The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

Drawn by A. I. Keller. Engraved by Robert Varley.

The Defense of the Bridge.

He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing s.p.a.ce; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face.

Through teeth and skull and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped, The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head!

And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder-smitten oak.

Far o'er the crashing forest The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.

Then all Etruria's n.o.blest Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the b.l.o.o.d.y corpses, In the path the dauntless Three: And, from the ghastly entrance 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.

Yet one man for one moment Stood out before the crowd; Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud: "Now welcome, welcome, s.e.xtus!

Now welcome to thy home!

Why dost thou stay and turn away?

Here lies the road to Rome."

Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.

But meanwhile ax and lever Have manfully been plied, And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide.

"Come back, come back, Horatius!"

Loud cried the Fathers all.

"Back, Lartius! Back, Herminius!

Back, ere the ruin fall!"

Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; And, as they pa.s.sed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack.

But when they turned their faces, And on the farther sh.o.r.e Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 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: And a long shout of triumph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret tops Was splashed the yellow-foam.

Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind.

"Down with him!" cried false s.e.xtus, 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 Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To s.e.xtus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the n.o.ble river That rolls by the tower of Rome:

"O, Tiber! Father Tiber!

To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day!"

So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side, 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, 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, Swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing; 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.

"Curse on him!" quoth false s.e.xtus, "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 sh.o.r.e; For such a gallant feat of arms 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; 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, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plow from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it up on high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie.

And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the Volscians home.

And mothers pray to Juno For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old.

And in the nights of winter When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within;

When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armor, And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old.

HOW SIR FRANCIS DRAKE SAILED ROUND THE WORLD.