on the tossing sea of steel, to and fro the standards reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal dies fitfully away.

Yet one man for one moment stood 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."
Thrice look'd he at the city; thrice look'd he at the dead;
And thrice came on in fury, and thrice turn'd back in dread;
And, white with fear and hatred, scowl'd at the narrow way
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, the bravest Tuscans lay.

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!"
Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back:
And, as they pass'd, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack.
But when they turn'd their faces, and on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have cross'd once more.
But with a crash like thunder fell every loosen'd 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 splash'd the yellow foam.
And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard, and toss'd his tawny mane,
And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free,
And whirling down, in fierce career, battlement, and plank, and
pier,
Rush'd 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.
"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace."
Round turn'd 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.
"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