And outspake strong Herminius,-
Of Titian blood was he:

"I will abide on thy left side,

And keep the bridge with thee."

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.

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,

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

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,

you here!

Fair guests, that waits
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?"

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!"

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 Sextus, 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 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.