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The want that keep their silence, till from Thee
They hear the gracious summons, none beside
Hath spoken to the world-worn, "Come to me,"
Tell forth their heavy secrets.

Thou dost hide

These in Thy bosom, and not these alone,
But all our heart's fond treasure that had grown
A burden eise: O Saviour, tears were weighed
To Thee in plenteous measure! none hath shown
That Thou did'st smile! yet hast Thou surely made
All joy of ours Thine own;

Thou madest us for Thine;
We seek amiss, we wander to and fro;
Yet are we ever on the track Divine;
The soul confesseth Thee, but sense is slow
To lean on aught but that which it may see;
So hath it crowded up these Courts below
With dark and broken images of Thee;

Lead Thou us forth upon Thy Mount, and show
Thy goodly patterns, whence these things of old
By Thee were fashioned; One though manifold.
Gloss Thou Thy perfect likeness in the soul,

Show us Thy countenance, and we are WHOLE!




"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?"

Then out spake Spurius Lartius,
A Ramnian proud was he:
"Lo, I will stand on 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."

"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.

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,

Jame 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 mighty mass;

To earth they sprang, their swords they drew
And lifted high their shields, and flew
To win the narrow pass.

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.

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.

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."

Thrice looked he on the city;

Thrice looked he on 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.

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 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.
"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.

"Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!

To whom the Romans pray,

A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,

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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,

And heavy with his armour,

And spent with changing blows:

And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.

Never, I ween, did swimmer,
In such an evil case,

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