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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 armor,

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,
Struggle through such a raging flood

Safe to the landing-place:
But his limbs were borne up bravely

By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber

Bore bravely up his chin.

"Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus;

"Will not the villain drown? But for this stay, ere close of day

We should have sacked the town!" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena,

"And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms

Was never seen before."

And now he feels the bottom;

Now on dry earth he stands; 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,

Borne by the joyous crowd.

They gave him of the corn-land,

That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen

Could plow from morn till night;
And they made a molten image,

And set it up on high,
And there it stands unto this day

To witness if I lie.

It stands in the Comitium,24

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.

And still his name sounds stirring

Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them

To charge the Volscian25 home; And wives still pray to Juno26

For boys with hearts as bold

24. The Comitium was the old Roman polling-place, a square situated between the Forum and the Senate House.

25. The Volscians were among the most determined of the Italian enemies of Rome.

26. Juno was the goddess who was thought of as presiding over marriage and the birth of children.

As his who kept the bridge so well
In the brave days of old.

And in the nights of winter,

When the cold north-winds blow,

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HORATIUS IN HIS HARNESS, HALTING UPON ONE KNEE

And the long howling of the wolves

Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lonely cottage
. Roars loud the tempest's din,
And the good logs of Algidus

Roar louder yet within:

When the oldest cask is opened,

And the largest lamp is lit;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,

And the kid turns on the spit;

When young and old in circle

Around the firebrands close; And the girls are weaving baskets,

And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armor,

And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily

Goes flashing through the loom,— With weeping and with laughter

Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge

In the brave days of old.27

27. You can tell from these last three stanzas, that Macaulay is writing his poem, not as an Englishman of the nineteenth century, but as if he were a Roman in the days when Rome, though powerful, had not yet become the luxurious city which it afterward was. That is, he thought of himself as writing in the days of the Republic, not in the days of the Empire.

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LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER

By Thomas Campbell

CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands
bound,

Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound,

To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now who be ye,would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?" "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men

Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen,

My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride;

Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride

When they have slain her lover?"

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight.

"I'll go, my chief—I'm ready; It is not for your silver bright,

But for your winsome lady:

"And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;

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