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.” LIV. 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. LVII. Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. * * * * * 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. LIX. “Oh, 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 back, Plunged headlong in the tide. LX. 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. LXI. 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. LXIV. 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. LXV. They gave him of the corn-land, That was of public right, As much as two strong oxen Could plough from morn till night; And they made a molten image, And set it upon high, And there it stands unto this day To witness if I lie. LXVIII. And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, 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; LXIX. 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; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows; LXX.