# Lays of Ancient Rome/Horatius

Horatius Cocles, "Horatius the one-eyed", was a Roman hero who defended the Pons Sublicius, the bridge that led across the Tiber to Rome, against the Etruscans in the second battle of the Naevian Meadow. Horatius was rewarded with as much land as he could plough around in a single day and each citizen of Rome was to give him a day's worth of provisions. Also, a statue of him was erected in the temple of Vulcan. It is not known to what extent the story is based on real events.
Horatius
A Lay Made About the Year Of The City CCCLX
I
 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,  East and west and south and north,  To summon his array.
 II
 East and west and south and north  The messengers ride fast,  And tower and town and cottage  Have heard the trumpet's blast.  Shame on the false Etruscan  Who lingers in his home,  When Porsena of Clusium  Is on the march for Rome.
 III
 The horsemen and the footmen  Are pouring in amain  From many a stately market-place,  From many a fruitful plain,  From many a lonely hamlet,  Which, hid by beech and pine,  Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest  Of purple Apennine;
 IV
 From lordly Volaterræ,  Where scowls the far-famed hold  Piled by the hands of giants  For godlike kings of old;  From seagirt Populonia,  Whose sentinels descry  Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops  Fringing the southern sky;
 V
 From the proud mart of Pisæ,  Queen of the western waves,  Where ride Massilia's triremes  Heavy with fair-haired slaves;  From where sweet Clanis wanders  Through corn and vines and flowers;  From where Cortona lifts to heaven  Her diadem of towers.
 VI
 Tall are the oaks whose acorns  Drop in dark Auser's rill;  Fat are the stags that champ the boughs  Of the Ciminian hill;  Beyond all streams Clitumnus  Is to the herdsman dear;  Best of all pools the fowler loves  The great Volsinian mere.
 VII
 But now no stroke of woodman  Is heard by Auser's rill;  No hunter tracks the stag's green path  Up the Ciminian hill;  Unwatched along Clitumnus  Grazes the milk-white steer;  Unharmed the water fowl may dip  In the Volsinian mere.
 VIII
 The harvests of Arretium,  This year, old men shall reap;  This year, young boys in Umbro  Shall plunge the struggling sheep;  And in the vats of Luna,  This year, the must shall foam  Round the white feet of laughing girls  Whose sires have marched to Rome.
 IX
 There be thirty chosen prophets,  The wisest of the land,  Who alway by Lars Porsena  Both morn and evening stand:  Evening and morn the Thirty  Have turned the verses o'er,  Traced from the right on linen white  By mighty seers of yore.
 X
 And with one voice the Thirty  Have their glad answer given:  "Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;  Go forth, beloved of Heaven;  Go, and return in glory  To Clusium's royal dome;  And hang round Nurscia's altars  The golden shields of Rome."
 XI
 And now hath every city  Sent up her tale of men;  The foot are fourscore thousand,  The horse are thousands ten.  Before the gates of Sutrium  Is met the great array.  A proud man was Lars Porsena  Upon the trysting day.
 XII
 For all the Etruscan armies  Were ranged beneath his eye,  And many a banished Roman,  And many a stout ally;  And with a mighty following  To join the muster came  The Tusculan Mamilius,  Prince of the Latian name.
 XIII
 But by the yellow Tiber  Was tumult and affright:  From all the spacious champaign  To Rome men took their flight.  A mile around the city,  The throng stopped up the ways;  A fearful sight it was to see  Through two long nights and days.
 XIV
 For aged folks on crutches,  And women great with child,  And mothers sobbing over babes  That clung to them and smiled,  And sick men borne in litters  High on the necks of slaves,  And troops of sun-burned husbandmen  With reaping-hooks and staves,
 XV
 And droves of mules and asses  Laden with skins of wine,  And endless flocks of goats and sheep,  And endless herds of kine,  And endless trains of wagons  That creaked beneath the weight  Of corn-sacks and of household goods,  Choked every roaring gate.
 XVI
 Now, from the rock Tarpeian,  Could the wan burghers spy  The line of blazing villages  Red in the midnight sky.  The Fathers of the City,  They sat all night and day,  For every hour some horseman came  With tidings of dismay.
 XVII
 To eastward and to westward  Have spread the Tuscan bands;  Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote  In Crustumerium stands.  Verbenna down to Ostia  Hath wasted all the plain;  Astur hath stormed Janiculum,  And the stout guards are slain.
 XVIII
 I wis, in all the Senate,  There was no heart so bold,  But sore it ached, and fast it beat,  When that ill news was told.  Forthwith up rose the Consul,  Up rose the Fathers all;  In haste they girded up their gowns,  And hied them to the wall.
 XIX
 They held a council standing,  Before the River-Gate;  Short time was there, ye well may guess,  For musing or debate.  Out spake the Consul roundly:  "The bridge must straight go down;  For, since Janiculum is lost,  Nought else can save the town."
 XX
 Just then a scout came flying,  All wild with haste and fear:  "To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:  Lars Porsena is here."  On the low hills to westward  The Consul fixed his eye,  And saw the swarthy storm of dust  Rise fast along the sky.
 XXI
 And nearer fast and nearer  Doth the red whirlwind come;  And louder still and still more loud,  From underneath that rolling cloud,  Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,  The trampling, and the hum.  And plainly and more plainly  Now through the gloom appears,  Far to left and far to right,  In broken gleams of dark-blue light,  The long array of helmets bright,  The long array of spears.
 XXII
 And plainly and more plainly,  Above that glimmering line,  Now might ye see the banners  Of twelve fair cities shine;  But the banner of proud Clusium  Was highest of them all,  The terror of the Umbrian,  The terror of the Gaul.
 XXIII
 And plainly and more plainly  Now might the burghers know,  By port and vest, by horse and crest,  Each warlike Lucumo.  There Cilnius of Arretium  On his fleet roan was seen;  And Astur of the four-fold shield,  Girt with the brand none else may wield,  Tolumnius with the belt of gold,  And dark Verbenna from the hold  By reedy Thrasymene.
 XXIV
 Fast by the royal standard,  O'erlooking all the war,  Lars Porsena of Clusium  Sat in his ivory car.  By the right wheel rode Mamilius,  Prince of the Latian name;  And by the left false Sextus,  That wrought the deed of shame.
 XXV
 But when the face of Sextus  Was seen among the foes,  A yell that rent the firmament  From all the town arose.  On the house-tops was no woman  But spat towards him and hissed,  No child but screamed out curses,  And shook its little fist.
 XXVI
 But the Consul's brow was sad,  And the Consul's speech was low,  And darkly looked he at the wall,  And darkly at the foe.  "Their van will be upon us  Before the bridge goes down;  And if they once may win the bridge,  What hope to save the town?"
 XXVII
 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,
 XXVIII
 "And for the tender mother  Who dandled him to rest,  And for the wife who nurses  His baby at her breast,  And for the holy maidens  Who feed the eternal flame,  To save them from false Sextus  That wrought the deed of shame?
 XXIX
 "Haul down the bridge, Sir Consul,  With all the speed ye may;  I, with two more to help me,  Will hold the foe in play.  In yon strait path a thousand  May well be stopped by three.  Now who will stand on either hand,  And keep the bridge with me?"
 XXX
 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 Titian blood was he:  "I will abide on thy left side,  And keep the bridge with thee."
 XXXI
 "Horatius," quoth the Consul,  "As thou sayest, so let it be."  And straight against that great array  Forth went the dauntless Three.  For Romans in Rome's quarrel  Spared neither land nor gold,  Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,  In the brave days of old.
 XXXII
 Then none was for a party;  Then all were for the state;  Then the great man helped the poor,  And the poor man loved the great:  Then lands were fairly portioned;  Then spoils were fairly sold:  The Romans were like brothers  In the brave days of old.
 XXXIII
 Now Roman is to Roman  More hateful than a foe,  And the Tribunes beard the high,  And the Fathers grind the low.  As we wax hot in faction,  In battle we wax cold:  Wherefore men fight not as they fought  In the brave days of old.
 XXXIV
 Now while the Three were tightening  Their harness on their backs,  The Consul was the foremost man  To take in hand an axe:  And Fathers mixed with Commons  Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,  And smote upon the planks above,  And loosed the props below.
 XXXV
 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.
 XXXVI
 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;
 XXXVII
 Aunus 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  Vassal 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.
 XXXVIII
 Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus  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 bloody dust.
 XXXIX
 Then Ocnus of Falerii  Rushed on the Roman Three;  And Lausulus of Urgo,  The rover of the sea;  And Aruns of Volsinium,  Who slew the great wild boar,  The great wild boar that had his den  Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen,  And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,  Along Albinia's shore.
 XL
 Herminius smote down Aruns:  Lartius laid Ocnus low:  Right to the heart of Lausulus  Horatius sent a blow.  "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate!  No more, aghast and pale,  From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark  The track of thy destroying bark.  No more Campania's hinds shall fly  To woods and caverns when they spy  Thy thrice-accursed sail."
 XLI
 But now no sound of laughter  Was heard among the foes.  A wild and wrathful clamor  From all the vanguard rose.  Six spears' lengths from the entrance  Halted that deep array,  And for a space no man came forth  To win the narrow way.
 XLII
 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 four-fold shield,  And in his hand he shakes the brand  Which none but he can wield.
 XLIII
 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?"
 XLIV
 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.
 XLV
 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.
 XLVI
 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.
 XLVII
 On Astur's throat Horatius  Right firmly pressed his heel,  And thrice and four times tugged amain,  Ere he wrenched out the steel.  "And see," he cried, "the welcome,  Fair guests, that waits you here!  What noble Lucumo comes next  To taste our Roman cheer?"
 XLVIII
 But at his haughty challenge  A sullen murmur ran,  Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,  Along that glittering van.  There lacked not men of prowess,  Nor men of lordly race;  For all Etruria's noblest  Were round the fatal place.
 XLIX
 But all Etruria's noblest  Felt their hearts sink to see  On the earth the bloody 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.
 L
 Was none who would be foremost  To lead such dire attack;  But those behind cried, "Forward!"  And those before cried, "Back!"  And backward now and forward  Wavers the deep array;  And on the tossing sea of steel  To and fro the standards reel;  And the victorious trumpet-peal  Dies fitfully away.
 LI
 Yet one man for one moment  Strode out before the crowd;  Well known was he to all the Three,  And they gave him greeting loud.  "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!  Now welcome to thy home!  Why dost thou stay, and turn away?  Here lies the road to Rome."
 LII
 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.
 LIII
 But meanwhile axe 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!"
 LIV
 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 farther shore  Saw brave Horatius stand alone,  They would have crossed once more.
 LV
 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.
 LVI
 And, like a horse unbroken  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,  And whirling down, in fierce career,  Battlement, and plank, and pier,  Rushed headlong to the sea.
 LVII
 Alone stood brave Horatius,  But constant still in mind;  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,  "Now yield thee to our grace."
 LVIII
 Round turned he, as not deigning  Those craven ranks to see;  Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,  To Sextus nought spake he;  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.
 LIX
 "Oh, 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.
 LX
 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.
 LXI
 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.
 LXII
 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  By the brave heart within,  And our good father Tiber  Bare bravely up his chin.
 LXIII
 "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."
 LXIV
 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.
 LXV
 They gave him of the corn-land,  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,  And there it stands unto this day  To witness if I lie.
 LXVI
 It stands in the Comitium  Plain for all folk to see;  Horatius in his harness,  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.
 LXVII
 And still his name sounds stirring  Unto the men of Rome,  As the trumpet-blast that cries to them  To charge the Volscian home;  And wives still pray to Juno  For boys with hearts as bold  As his who kept the bridge so well  In the brave days of old.
 LXVIII
 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;
 LXIX
 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;
 LXX
 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.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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