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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.
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.
Aunus, from green Tifernum,
Lord of the Hill of Vines;
Sicken in Ilva's mines ;
Vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers
O'er the pale waves of Nar.
He smiled on those bold Romans,
A smile serene and high ;
And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, “The she-wolf's litter
Stand savagely at bay ; But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way ?" .
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath ; Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth ; At Picus brave Horatius
Darted one fiery thrust, And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.
Then Ocnus of Falerii
Rushed on the Roman three ; And Lausulus of Urgo,
The rover of the sea ; And Aruns of Volsinium,
Who slew the great wild boar, – The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
Along Albinia's shore.
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 leaned one breathing-space,
Sprang right at Astur's face.
So fierce a thrust he sped,
Behind the Tuscan's head.
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 !"
And the great lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Avernus
A thunder-smitten oak.
The giant arms lie spread ;
Gaze on the blasted head.
Right firmly pressed his heel,
Ere he wrenched out the steel.
Fair guests, that waits you here !
To taste our Roman cheer ?" But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran, Mingled with wrath and shame and dread,
Along that glittering van.
But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes; A wild and wrathful clamor
From all the vanguard rose.
Halted that mighty mass,
To win the narrow pass.
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.
Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, May reach his heart, and free the world from
bondage. Rise! Fathers, rise ! 't is Rome demands your
help: Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, Or share their fate! The corpse rf half her
CANADA NOT LAST.
My silver streets that never wear by change
Know I can soothe thee, please and marry thee
I smile immortal, while the mortals flee
Than Florence, viewed from San Miniato's slope
The last of day reflects a silver hope! Lo, all else softened in the twilight beam :The city's mass blent in one hazy cream,
The brown Dome'midst it, and the Lily tower, And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that
seem Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power On this side greenly dark with cypress, vine
Though Italy were all fair skies to me,
This ancient, modern, medieval queen -
Imperial ruin and villa's princely scene
They reign in robes of magic round me here;
With spell more silent, only pleads a tear.
I see the fields, I see the autumn hand
With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand
On hills that lift from iron bases grand
William Douw LIGHTHALL.