With shield and blade Horatius right deftly turned the blow. It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: To see the red blood flow. He reeled, and on Herminius he leaned one breathing space, 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 hand-breadth out behind the Tuscan's head. And the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke, But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied; 'Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!' Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack. But, when they turned their faces, and on the further shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more. But with a crash like thunder fell every loosened beam, stream: And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome, And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein, mane; And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free; 'Oh Tiber father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day!' [tide. So he spake, and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side, And with his harness on his back, plunged headlong in the 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 was his armour, and spent with changing blows; And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose. '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; 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. Macaulay. Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space aside, and hide; Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a crimson flood, And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake :-'Farewell, sweet child, farewell! O, how I loved my darling! though stern I sometimes be, To thee, thou know'st, I was not so,-who could be so to thee? And how my darling loved me! how glad she was to hear Now, all those things are over yes, all thy pretty ways, The house that was the happiest within the Roman walls, The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's marble halls, Now, for the brightness of thy smile, must have eternal gloom, And, for the music of thy voice, the silence of the tomb. The time is come. See, how he points his eager hand this way! See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's upon the prey! With all his wit he little deems, that, spurned, betrayed, bereft, Thy father hath, in his despair, one fearful refuge left. He little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the portion of the slave; Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt and blow,— Foul outrage, which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know. Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss ; And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this!' With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died! When Appius Claudius saw that deed, he shuddered and sank down, And hid his face some little space with the corner of his gown, Till, with white lips and blood-shot eyes, Virginius tottered nigh, And stood before the judgment-seat and held the knife on high: 'Oh! dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain, By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain ; And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine, Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Člaudian line !' So spake the slayer of his child, and turned and went his way, But first he cast one haggard glance to where the body lay, And writhed, and groaned a fearful groan, and then, with steadfast feet, Strode across the market-place into the Sacred Street. - -'Stop him, alive or dead; Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who brings his head!' He looked upon his clients; but none would work his will : He looked upon his lictors; but they trembled and stood still: And as Virginius through the press his way in silence cleft, And there ta'en horse to tell the Camp what deeds are done in Rome. Macaulay. Urge me no more,—your prayers are vain, The bands that once I led; Accursed moment! when I woke Inly I cursed my breath : I recked not ;-could they chain the mind, Then from that living tomb They led me forth-I thought-to die : Oh! in that thought was ecstasy! But no,-kind Heaven had yet in store A joy I thought to feel no more, Or feel but in the grave. They deemed, perchance, my haughtier mood That he who once was brave,— They bade me to my country bear The offers these have borne ; They would have trained my lips to swear, Silent their base commands I heard: I go,-prepared to meet the worst, I bid you still, with aspect stern, Fools as they were, could not mine eye, Else had they sent this wasted frame His father's name he must resign, Is yours :-she knows it well,—and you Ay, bend your brows, ye ministers And Rome, the bold and free, Shall trample on her prostrate towers, One path alone remains for me; Then tell me not of hope or life; One word concentres for the slave, Wife, children, country, all,-the Grave! Dale. |