East and west and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet’s blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome. (_The Tuscan Army arrives before the River-Gate of the Tiber, the Roman Fathers deliberate how to save the city._) XIX. They held a council standing Before the River-Gate; Short time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate. Outspake the Consul roundly: “The bridge must straight go down; For, since Janiculum is lost, Nought else can save the town.” XXVI. But the Consul’s brow was sad, And the Consul’s speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe. “Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town?” XXVII. Then outspake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: “To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Then facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods. XXIX. “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?” XXX. Then out spake Spurius Lartius; A Ramnian proud was he: “Lo, I will stand at 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.” XXXI. “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. XXXII. Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great: Then the lands were fairly portioned; Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old. XXXV. Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came 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. (_Horatius and his companions slay several of the bravest Tuscan chiefs who advance towards the bridge._) LIII.