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For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods?

"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?

"Hew 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?"

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Wherefore men fight not as they fought

In the brave days of old.

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,

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.

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!"

But 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 mass, And for a space no man came forth To win the narrow pass.

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
Stands 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.

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, [out The good sword stood a handbreadth Behind the Tuscan's head.

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

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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;

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.
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.

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;

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"Now yield thee," cried Lars Por-"Curse on him!" quoth false Sex

sena,

"Now yield thee to our grace!"

Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see:
Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus naught 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:

"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,

tus

"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.

They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,
As much as two strong oxen
Could plough from morn
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.

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.

till

GEORGE MACDONALD.

THE BABY.

WHERE did you come from, baby dear?

Out of the everywhere into here.

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O LASSIE AYONT THe hill.

O LASSIE ayont the hill!
Come ower the tap o' the hill,
Or roun' the neuk o' the hill,
For I want ye sair the nicht,
I'm needin' ye sair the nicht,
For I'm tired and sick o' mysel',
A body's sel''s the sairest weicht,—
O lassie, come ower the hill!

Gin a body could be a thocht o' grace, And no a sel' ava!

I'm sick o' my heid, and my han's and my face,

An' my thochts and mysel' and a';
I'm sick o' the warl' and a';
The licht gangs by wi' a hiss;
For thro' my een the sunbeams fa',
But my weary heart they miss.
O lassie ayont the hill!
Come ower the tap o' the hill,
Or roun' the neuk o' the hill;
Bidena ayont the hill!

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The altar is snowy with blossoms,
The font is a vase of perfume,
On pillar and chancel are twining

Fresh garlands of eloquent bloom. Christ is risen! with glad lips we utter,

And far up the infinite height, Archangels the pæan re-echo,

ONLY WAITING.

ONLY waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown,
Only waiting till the glimmer

Of the day's last beam is flown;
Till the night of earth is faded

From this heart once full of day, Till the dawn of Heaven is breaking Through the twilight soft and gray.

Only waiting till the reapers

Have the last sheaf gathered home. For the summer-time hath faded,

And the autumn winds are come. Quickly, reapers! gather quickly,

The last ripe hours of my heart, For the bloom of life is withered, And I hasten to depart.

Only waiting till the angels

Open wide the mystic gate, At whose feet I long have lingered, Weary, poor, and desolate. Even now I hear their footsteps

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And their voices far away If they call me, I am waiting, Only waiting to obey.

Only waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown—
Only waiting till the glimmer

Of the day's last beam is flown. When from out the folded darkness Holy, deathless stars shall rise,

And crown Him with Lilies of By whose light, my soul will gladly

Light!

Wing her passage to the skies.

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