But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town!"
"Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, 530
"And bring him safe to shore;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before."

LXI

And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands; 535
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, 540
Borne by the joyous crowd.

LXV

They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,[81]
As much as two strong oxen
Could plough from morn till night; 545
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,[62] 545
Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,
Halting upon one knee:
And underneath is written,
In letters all of gold, 550
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 560
To charge the Volscian home,[63]
And wives still pray to Juno[64]
For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well,
In the brave days of old. 565

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 570
Roars loud the tempest's din,
And the good logs of Algidus[65]
Roar louder yet within;

LXIX

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit 575
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, 580
And the lads are shaping bows;

LXX

When the goodman mends his armor,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the good wife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom: 585
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

--_Macaulay_

[1] Lars. Lord or Chieftain.