No More Learning

[60] ween. think, fancy.

[61] of public right. Belonging to the state.

[62] Comitium. That part of the Roman forum, or public square, where
the Patricians were accustomed to meet.

[63] To charge the Volscian home. The Volsciana lived in the southern
part of Latium. They were constantly at war with the Romans. _Home_
is here an adverb strengthening the meaning of _charge_.

[64] Juno. Wife of Jupiter, and queen of heaven.

[65] Algidus. A hill about twelve miles from Rome.




ALICE BRAND.

Merry it is in the good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle[1] are singing,
When the deer sweeps by and the hounds are in cry,
And the hunter's horn is ringing.

"O Alice Brand, my native land 5
Is lost for love of you;
And we must hold by wood and wold,[2]
As outlaws wont to do.

"O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright,
And 'twas all for thine eyes so blue, 10
That on the night of our luckless flight
Thy brother bold I slew.

"Now must I teach to hew the beech
The hand that held the glaive,[3]
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 15
And stakes to fence our cave.

"And for vest of pall,[4] thy fingers small,
That wont on harp to stray,
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer,
To keep the cold away. " 20

"O Richard! if my brother died,
Twas but a fatal chance;
For darkling[5] was the battle tried,
And fortune sped the lance.

"If pall and vair[6] no more I wear, 25
Nor thou the crimson sheen,
As warm, we 'll say, is the russet gray,
As gay the forest-green.

"And, Richard, if our lot be hard,
And lost thy native land, 30
Still Alice has her own Richard,
And he his Alice Brand. "

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side, 35
Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

Up spoke the moody Elfin King,[7]
Who woned[8] within the hill,--
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church,
His voice was ghostly shrill. 40

"Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak,
Our moonlight circle's[9] screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer,
Beloved of our Elfin Queen?
Or who may dare on wold to wear 45
The fairies' fatal green? [10]

"Up, Urgan, up! to yon mortal hie,
For thou wert christened[11] man;
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
For muttered word or ban. [12] 50

"Lay on him the curse of the withered heart,
The curse of the sleepless eye
Till he wish and pray that his life would part,
Nor yet find leave to die. "

Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood 55
Though the birds have stilled their singing,
The evening blaze doth Alice raise,
And Richard is fagots bringing.

Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
Before Lord Richard stands, 60
And, as he crossed and blessed himself,
"I fear not sign," quoth the grisly[13] elf,
"That is made with bloody hands. "

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear,-- 65
"And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer. "

"Now loud thou liest, thou bold of mood!
It cleaves unto his hand,
The stain of thine own kindly blood,[14] 70
The blood of Ethert Brand. "

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand,
And made the holy sign,--
"And if there's blood on Richard's hand,
A spotless hand is mine. 75

"And I conjure[15] thee, demon elf,
By Him whom demons fear,
To show us whence thou art thyself,
And what thine errand here? "

"'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in Fairy-land, 80
When fairy birds are singing,
When the court doth ride by their monarch's side,
With bit and bridle ringing:

"And gayly shines the Fairy-land--
But all is glistening show 85
Like the idle gleam that December's beam
Can dart on ice and snow.

"And fading, like that varied gleam,
Is our inconstant shape,
"Who now like knight and lady seem, 90
And now like dwarf and ape.

"It was between the night and day,
When the Fairy King has power,
That I sunk down in a sinful fray,
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 95
To the joyless Elfin bower.

"But wist[16] I of a woman bold,
Who thrice my brow durst sign,[17]
I might regain my mortal mould,
As fair a form as thine. " 100

She crossed him once--she crossed him twice---
That lady was so brave;
The fouler grew his goblin hue,
The darker grew the cave.

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold, 105
He rose beneath her hand,
The fairest knight on Scottish mould,
Her brother, Ethert Brand!

Merry it is in good greenwood,
When the mavis and merle are singing, 110
But merrier were they in Dunfermline[18] gray,
When all the bells were ringing.

--_Scott_


[1] mavis and merle. thrush and blackbird.

[2] wold. hilly, open country.

[3] glaive. sword.

[4] pall. A rich cloth from which mantles of noblemen were made.

[5] darkling. In the dark.

[6] vair. The fur of the squirrel.

[7] Elfin King. King of the fairies.

[8] woned. dwelt.

[9] circle. dance.

[10] fairies' fatal green. The dress of the fairies was green and
they were angered when mortals dared to wear garments of that colour.

[11] christened. Those who had been baptized were, according to
mediaeval belief, supposed to enjoy special advantages or privileges.

[12] ban. curse.

[13] grisly. horrible; hideous.

[14] kindly blood. The blood of your kindred.

[15] conjure. Call upon by oath. Distinguished from conjure, meaning
"to influence by magic. "

[16] wist. See High School Grammar, p. 176.

[17] sign. Make the sign of the cross upon ray brow.

[18] Dunfermline. A town, about twenty miles from Edinburgh.

THE SOLITARY REAPER.

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland lass!
Reaping and singing by herself,
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain 5
And sings a melancholy strain.
Oh, listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chant
So sweetly to reposing bands 10
Of travellers in some shady haunt
Among Arabian sands:
No sweeter voice was ever heard
In spring time from the cuckoo-bird
Breaking the silence of the seas 15
Among the farthest Hebrides.

"Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers now
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago. 20
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

"Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang 25
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;--
I listen'd motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill, 30
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

--_Wordsworth_.




THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS.

The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
"Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win; 5
Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in? "
"The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried[1] bayonets gleam,
They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe
have cross'd the stream! 10
Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints!
I trow
There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now! "

So spoke the bold French Mareschal[2] with him who led the van,
Whilst, rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15
And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
Hard by there stood a swarthy man, was leaning on his sword,
And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
"I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare. 20
If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too. "

The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
"Hath bold Duguesclin's[3] fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know, 25
That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow;
And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,-- 30
Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee! "

Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
But he turn'd him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they!
The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
No one of all that company but bore a gentle name, 35
Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
All they had march'd with great Dundee[4] to where he fought and fell,
And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well;

And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn; 40
And they had trod the Pass[5] once more, and stoop'd on either side.
To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died,
And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men, 45
Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.

"The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is the foe,--
Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside. 50
No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
Come, brothers! let me name a spell, shall rouse your souls again, 55
And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart and vein.
Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.

Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
Again upon the Garry's[6] banks, on Scottish soil we stand! 60
Again I see the tartans[7] wave, again the trumpets ring;
Again I hear our leader's call; 'Upon them for the King! '
Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn? [8]
The soul of Graeme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in? "
No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each
other's hand, 65
Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and cannon-roar,--
"Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man! " 70

Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the flame:
The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
Yet onward push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid.
Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent swept, 75
That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
"The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach
the shore!
See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in the Rhine! " 80

Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding shrill,
And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges to the hill?
How they toss their mighty branches, struggling with the
temper's shock;
How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river. 85
Though the water flashed around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
of old.
One word was spoken among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
"Remember our dead Claverhouse! " was all the Captain said. 90
Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd toward the isle.

The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng.
But never bad they faced in field so stern a charge before, 95
And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore. [9]
Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
That rises o'er the parent springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven, than came the Scottish band
Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it, sword in hand. 100
In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!

O lonely island of the Rhine,--Where seed was never sown,
What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through the rain,
She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and plain? 105
A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering glare
To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there.

And did they twine the laurel-wreath,[10] for those who fought
so well 110
And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
What meed of thanks was given to them let aged annals tell.
Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with wine?
It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed; 115
The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed,
And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
What matter'd it that men should vaunt, and loud and fondly swear
That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere? 120
They bore within their breast the grief that fame can never heal,--
The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see again,--
For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains, loch and glen--
For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 125
Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!

Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by, 130
And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep
and dangerous ford
The Passage of the Scot.

--_Aytoun_.


[1] serried. crowded.

[2] Mareschal. Marshal, an officer of the highest rank in the French
army.

[3] Duguesclin. A noted French commander, famous for his campaigns
against the English in the 14th century.

[4] Dundee. John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, a Scottish
soldier. He raised a body of Highlanders in 1689 to fight for James
II against William of Orange. At the battle of Killecrankie (1689)
he was mortally wounded.

[5] The Pass. The Pass of Killecrankie.

[6] Garry. A river in Perthshire, Scotland.

[7] tartan. A Scotch plaid

[8] linn. A waterfall.

[9] claymore. The heavy broadsword used by the Highlanders.

[10] laurel-wreath. The laurel is an evergreen shrub found in parts
of Europe. A wreath of laurel was a mark of distinction or honour.




DICKENS IN CAMP.

Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting,
The river sang below,
The dim Sierras,[1] far beyond, uplifting
Their minarets of snow.

The roaring camp-fire, with rude humor, painted 5
The ruddy tints of health
On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted
In the fierce race for wealth;

Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure
A hoarded volume drew, 10
And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure,
To hear the tale anew;

And then, while round them shadows gathered faster,
And as the firelight fell,
He read aloud the book wherein the Master[2] 15
Had writ of "Little Nell. "[3]

Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,--for the reader
Was youngest of them all,--
But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar
A silence seemed to fall; 20

The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows,
Listened in every spray,
While the whole camp, with "Nell," on English meadows
Wandered and lost their way.

And so in mountain solitudes--o'ertaken 25
As by some spell divine--
Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken
From out the gusty pine.

Lost is that camp, and wasted all its fire:
And he who wrought that spell? -- 30
Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire,[4]
Ye have one tale[5] to tell!

Lost is that camp!
but let its fragrant story[6]
Blend with the breath that thrills
With hop-vines' incense[7] all the pensive glory 35
That fills the Kentish hills.

And on that grave where English oak and holly
And laurel wreaths intwine,[8]
Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,--
This spray of Western pine. 40

--Harte.


[1] Sierra. A Spanish term, meaning a mountain range. The name
Sierra was applied, of course, to a great many different ranges.

[2] the Master. Dickens.

[3] Little Nell. The heroine of Dickens' novel, _The Old Curiosity
Shop_.

[4] Dickens died at Gadshill, Kent, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey.

[5] one tale. Both they who heard the story, and he who wrote it, are
dead.

[6] Let the fragrance of the western pine blend with the incense of
the hop-vines in memory of Dickens. In other words, let me add this
story as another tribute to his memory.

[7] hop-vines' incense. The smell of the hop-vines. Kent is the
chief hop-growing county of England.

[8] The great writers of England have done honour to Dickens.




A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

I

What was he doing, the great god Pan,[1]
Down in the reeds by the river!
Spreading ruin, and scattering ban,
Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,
And breaking the golden lilies afloat 5
With the dragon-fly on the river.


II

He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,
From the deep, cool bed of the river.
The limpid water turbidly ran,
And the broken lilies a-dying lay, 10
And the dragon-fly had fled away,
Ere he brought it out of the river.


III

High on the shore sat the great god Pan,
While turbidly flowed the river,
And hacked and hewed as a great god can, 15
With his hard bleak steel, at the patient reed,
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed
To prove it fresh from the river.


IV

He cut it short, did the great god Pan,
(How tall it stood in the river! ) 20
Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,
Steadily from the outside ring,
And notched the poor, dry, empty thing
In holes, as he sat by the river.


V

"This is the way," laughed the great god Pan, 25
(Laughed while he sat by the river,)
"The only way, since gods began
To make sweet music, they could succeed. "
Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,
He blew in power by the river. 30


VI

Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!
Piercing sweet by the river!
Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!
The sun on the lull forgot to die,
And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly 35
Came back to dream on the river.


VII

Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,
To laugh as he sits by the river,
Making a poet out of a man:
The true gods[2] sigh for the cost and pain,-- 40
For the reed which grows nevermore again
As a reed with the reeds in the river.

--Mrs. Browning.


[1] Pan. In Greek mythology, the god of pastures, forests and flocks.
He was represented as half-man, half-goat, in appearance. He was the
inventor of the shepherd's flute.

[2] Pan was not one of the gods of Olympus, and was literally "half a
beast. "




GRADATIM. [1]

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to the summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true, 5
That a noble deed is a step toward God--
Lifting the soul from the common sod[2]
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are under our feet;[3]
By what we have mastered of good and gain; 10
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night, 15
Our lives are trailing the sordid[4] dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 20

Wings for the angels, but feet for the men! [5]
We may borrow the wings to find the way--
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, arid pray.
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder[6] thrown 25
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the Sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 30
And we mount to the summit round by round.

--_Holland_.


[1] Gradatim. A step at a time.

[2] the common sod. earthly things.

[3] See Longfellow, _The Ladder of Saint Augustine_.

[4] sordid. mean; base.

[5] Good resolves and aspirations ("wings") are not sufficient. We can
rise only step by step by overcoming the petty difficulties of
everyday life.

[6] ladder. A reference to Jacob's ladder (Genesis xxviii, 12).




THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. [1]

A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND POLLUX,[2]

ON THE IDES OF QUINTILIS,[3]

IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCCLI (B. C. 303).


[_This is the feast of Castor and Pollux, and the anniversary of the
battle of Lake Regillus, which they did so much to win. Let us
remember them, and sing their praises_. ]


I

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note!
Ho, lictors,[4] clear the way!
The Knights[5] will ride, in all their pride,
Along the streets to-day,
To-day the doors and windows 5
Are hung with garlands all,
From Castor[6] in the forum,[7]
To Mars without the wall.
Each Knight is robed in purple,
With olive each is crowned, 10
A gallant war-horse under each
Paws haughtily the ground.
While flows the Yellow River,[8]
While stands the Sacred Hill,[9]
The proud Ides of Quintilis, 15
Shall have such honour still.
Gay are the Martian Kalends:[10]
December's Nones[11] are gay:
But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides,
Shall be Rome's whitest[12] day. 20


II

Unto the Great Twin Brethren
We keep this solemn feast.
Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren
Came spurring from the east.
They came o'er wild Parthenius[13] 25
Tossing in waves of pine,
O'er Cirrha's dome,[14] o'er Adria's[15] foam,
O'er purple Apennine,
From where with flutes and dances
Their ancient mansion rings, 30
In lordly Lacedaemon,[16]
The city of two kings,
To where, by Lake Regillus,
Under the Porcian[17] height,
All in the lands of Tusculum, 35
Was fought the glorious fight.


III

Now on the place of slaughter
Are cots and sheepfolds seen,
And rows of vines, and fields of wheat,
And apple-orchards green; 40
And swine crush the big acorns
That fall from Corne's[18] oaks.
Upon the turf by the Fair Fount[19]
The reaper's pottage smokes.
The fisher baits his angle; 45
The hunter twangs his bow;
Little they think on those strong limbs
That moulder deep below.
Little they think how sternly
That day the trumpets pealed; 50
How in the slippery swamp of blood
Warrior and war-horse reeled;
How wolves came with fierce gallop,
And crows on eager wings,
To tear the flesh of captains, 55
And peck the eyes of kings;
How thick the dead lay scattered
Under the Porcian height:
How through the gates of Tusculum
Raved the wild stream of night; 60
And how the Lake Regillus
Bubbled with crimson foam,
What time the Thirty Cities[20]
Came forth to war with Rome.


IV

But, Roman, when thou standest 65
Upon that holy ground,
Look thou with heed on the dark rock.
That girds the dark lake round,
So shall thou see a hoof-mark[21]
Stamped deep into the flint: 70
It was no hoof of mortal steed
That made so strange a dint;
There to the Great Twin Brethren
Vow thou thy vows, and pray
That they, in tempest and in fight, 75
Will keep thy head alway.


[_The Latins send a message calling on the Romans to restore the
Tarquins. The consul proudly refuses, and a dictator is appointed.
The Roman army encamps hard by Lake Regillus_. ]


Since last the Great Twin Brethren
Of mortal eyes were seen,
Have years gone by an hundred
And fourscore and thirteen. 80
That summer a Virginius[22]
Was Consul first in place;[23]
The second was stout Aulus,
Of the Posthumian race.
The Herald of the Latines 85
From Gabii[24] came in state:
The Herald of the Latines
Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate
The herald of the Latines
Did in our Forum stand; 90
And there he did his office,
A sceptre in his hand.


VI

"Hear, Senators and people
Of the good town of Rome,
The Thirty Cities charge you 95
To bring the Tarquins home:
And if ye still be stubborn,
To work the Tarquins wrong,
The Thirty Cities warn you,
Look that your walls be strong. " 100


VII

Then spake the Consul Aulus,
He spake a bitter jest:
"Once the jay sent a message
Unto the eagle's nest:--
Now yield thou up thine eyrie 105
Unto the carrion-kite,
Or come forth valiantly, and face
The jays in deadly fight. --
Forth looked in wrath the eagle;
And carrion-kite and jay, 110
Soon as they saw his beak and claw,
Fled screaming far away. "


VIII

The Herald of the Latines
Hath hied him back in state;
The Fathers of the City 115
Are met in high debate.
Then spake the elder Consul,
An ancient man and wise:
"Now hearken, Conscript Fathers,[25]
To that which I advise. 120
In seasons of great peril
Tis good that one bear sway;
Then choose we a Dictator,
Whom all men shall obey.
Camerium[26] knows how deeply 125
The sword of Aulus bites,
And all our city calls him
The man of seventy fights.
Then let him be Dictator
For six months and no more, 130
And have a Master of the Knights,[27]
And axes twenty-four. "[28]


IX

So Aulus was Dictator,
The man of seventy fights
He made Aebutius Elva 135
His Master of the Knights.
On the third morn thereafter,
At dawning of the day,
Did Aulus and Aebutius
Set forth with their array. 140
Sempronius Atratinus
Was left in charge at home
With boys, and with grey-headed men,
To keep the walls of Rome.
Hard by the Lake Regillus 145
Our camp was pitched at night:
Eastward a mile the Latines lay,
Under the Porcian height.
Far over hill and valley
Their mighty host was spread; 150
And with their thousand watch-fires
The midnight sky was red.


[_The names of the towns which contributed to the Latin army of
threescore thousand men, and their order of battle. All Latium was
there to fight with Rome_. ]


Up rose the golden morning
Over the Porcian height,
The proud Ides of Quintilis 155
Marked evermore with white.
Not without; secret trouble
Our bravest saw the foes;
For girt by threescore thousand spears
The thirty standards rose. 160
From every warlike city
That boasts the Latian name,
Foredoomed to dogs and vultures,
That gallant army came;
From Sofia's purple vineyards, 165
From Norba's ancient wall,
From the white streets of Tusculum,
The proudest town of all;
From where the Witch's Fortress[29]
O'erhangs the dark-blue seas; 170
From the still glassy lake that sleeps
Beneath Aricia's trees--
Those trees in whose dim shadow
The ghastly priest[30] doth reign,
The priest who slew the slayer, 175
And shall himself be slain;
From the drear banks of Ufens,[31]
Where nights of marsh-fowl play,
And buffaloes lie wallowing
Through the hot summer's day, 180
From the gigantic watch-towers,
No work of earthly men,
Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook
The never-ending fen;
From the Laurentian[32] jungle, 185
The wild hog's reedy home;
From the green steeps whence Anio leaps
In floods of snow-white foam.


XI

Aricia, Cora, Norba,
Velitrae, with the might; 190
Of Setia and of Tusculum,
Were marshalled on the right:
The leader was Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name,
Upon his head a helmet 195
Of red gold shone like flame:
High on a gallant charger
Of dark-grey hue he rode:
Over his gilded armour
A vest of purple flowed, 200
Woven in the land of sunrise
By Syria's dark-browed daughters,
And by the sails of Carthage[33] brought
Far o'er the southern waters.


XII

Lavinium and Laurentum 205
Had on the left their post,
With all the banners of the marsh,
And banners of the coast.
Their leader was false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame: 210
With restless pace and haggard face
To his last field he came.
Men said he saw strange visions
Which none beside might see,
And that strange sounds were in his ears 215
Which none might hear but he.
A woman[34] fair and stately,
But pale as are the dead,
Oft through the watches of the night
Sat spinning by his bed. 220
And as she plied the distaff,
In a sweet voice and low,
She sang of great old houses,
And fights fought long ago.
So spun she, and so sang she, 225
Until the east was grey,
Then pointed to her bleeding breast,
And shrieked, and fled away.


XIII

But in the centre thickest
Were ranged the shields of foes, 230
And from the centre loudest
The cry of battle rose.
There Tibur[35] marched and Pedum
Beneath proud Tarquin's rule,
And Ferentinum of the rock, 235
And Gabii of the pool.
There rode the Volscian succours:
There, in a dark stern ring,
The Roman exiles gathered close,
Around the ancient king. 240
Though white as Mount Soracte,[36]
When winter nights are long,
His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt,
His heart and hand were strong:
Under his hoary eyebrows 245
Still flashed forth quenchless rage,
And, if the lance shook in his gripe,
'Twas more with hate than age.
Close at his side was Titus
On an Apulian[37] steed, 250
Titus, the youngest Tarquin,
Too good for such a breed.


[_The battle begins. False Sextus flees from Herminius, one of the
defenders of the bridge. Aebutius slays Tubero, but is severely
wounded by Mamilius of Tusculum, and retires from the fight_. ]


XIV

Now on each side the leaders
Gave signal for the charge;
And on each side the footmen 255
Strode on with lance and targe;[38]
And on each side the horsemen
Struck their spurs deep in gore;
And front to front, the armies
Met with a mighty roar: 260
And under that great battle
The earth with blood was red;
And, like the Pomptine[39] fog at morn,
The dust hung overhead;
And louder still and louder 265
Rose from the darkened field
The braying of the war-horns,
The clang of sword and shield,
The rush of squadrons sweeping
Like whirlwinds o'er the plain,
The shouting of the slayers, 270
And screeching of the slain.


XV

False Sextus rode out foremost:
His look was high and bold;
His corslet was of bison's hide, 275
Plated with steel and gold.
As glares the famished eagle
From the Digentian rock[40]
On a choice lamb that bounds alone
Before Bandusia's[41] flock, 280
Herminius glared on Sextus,
And came with eagle speed,
Herminius on black Auster,[42]
Brave champion on brave steed;
In his right hand the broadsword 285
That kept the bridge so well,
And on his helm the crown[43] he won
When proud Fidenae fell.
Woe to the maid whose lover
Shall cross his path to-day! 290
False Sextus saw, and trembled,
And turned, and fled away.
As turns, as flies, the woodman
In the Calabrian[44] brake,
When through the reeds gleams the round eye 295
Of that fell speckled snake;
So turned, so fled, false Sextus,
And hid him in the rear,
Behind the dark Lavinian ranks,
Bristling with crest and spear. 300


XVI

But far to north Aebutius,
The Master of the Knights,
Gave Tubero of Norba
To feed the Porcian kites.
Next under those red horse-hoofs 305
Flaccus of Setia lay;
Better had he been pruning
Among his elms[45] that day.
Mamilius saw the slaughter,
And tossed his golden crest, 310
And towards the Master of the Knights
Through the thick battle pressed.
Aebutias smote Mamilius
So fiercely, on the shield
That the great lord of Tusculum 315
Well nigh rolled on the field.
Mamilius smote Aebutius,
With a good aim and true,
Just where the neck and shoulder join,
And pierced him through and through; 320
And brave Aebutius Elva
Fell swooning to the ground:
But a thick wall of bucklers
Encompassed him around.
His clients[46] from the battle 325
Bare him some little space,
And filled a helm from the dark lake,
And bathed his brow and face;
And when at last he opened
His swimming eyes to light, 330
Men say, the earliest word he spake
Was, "Friends, how goes the fight? "


[_The struggle in the centre, where the ancient Tarquin is struck
down. The Latins fight over him as he lies, and Titus kills
Valerius, round whose body the struggle waxes hot_. ]


XVII

But meanwhile in the centre
Great deeds of arms were wrought;
There Aulus the Dictator 335
And there Valerius fought.
Aulus with his good broadsword
A bloody passage cleared
To where, amidst the thickest foes,
He saw the long white beard. 340
Flat lighted that good broadsword
Upon proud Tarquin's head.
He dropped the lance: he dropped the reins:
He fell as fall the dead.
Down Aulus springs to slay him, 345
With eyes like coals of fire;
But faster Titus[47] hath sprung down,
And hath bestrode his sire.
Latian captains, Roman knights,
Fast down to earth they spring, 350
And hand to hand they fight on foot
Around the ancient king.
First Titus gave tall Caeso
A death wound in the face;
Tall Caeso was the bravest man 355
Of the brave Fabian[48] race:
Aulus slew Rex of Gabii,
The priest of Juno's shrine:
Valerius smote down Julius,
Of Rome's great Julian line;[49] 360
Julius, who left his mansion
High on the Velian hill,[50]
And through all turns of weal and woe
Followed proud Tarquin still.
Now right across proud Tarquin 365
A corpse was Julius laid;
And Titus groaned with rage and grief,
And at Valerius made.
Valerius struck at Titus,
And lopped off half his crest; 370
But Titus stabbed Valerius
A span deep in the breast.
Like a mast snapped by the tempest,
Valerius reeled and fell.
Ah! woe is me for the good house 375
That loves the people well!
Then shouted loud the Latines;
And with one rush they bore
The struggling Romans backward
Three lances' length and more: 380
And up they took proud Tarquin,
And laid him on a shield,
And four strong yeoman bare him,
Still senseless from the field.


XVIII

But fiercer grew the fighting 385
Around Valerius dead;
For Titus dragged him by the foot,
And Aulus by the head.
"On, Latines, on! " quoth Titus,
"See how the rebels fly! " 390
"Romans, stand firm! " quoth Aulus,
"And win this fight or die!
They must not give Valerius
To raven and to kite;
For aye Valerius loathed the wrong, 395
And aye upheld the right:
And for your wives and babies
In the front rank he fell.
Now play the men for the good house
That loves the people well! " 400


XIX

Then tenfold round the body
The roar of battle rose,
Like the roar of a burning forest,
"When a strong north wind blows.
Now backward, and now forward, 405
Rocked furiously the fray,
Till none could see Valerius,
And none wist where he lay.
For shivered arms and ensigns
Were heaped there in a mound, 410
And corpses stiff, and dying men,
That writhed and gnawed the ground,
And wounded horses kicking,
And snorting purple foam:
Right well did such a couch befit 415
A Consular of Rome.


[_Mamilius is seen coming to the aid of the Latins. Cossus gallops
off to summon Herminus, who comes at once. Mamilius flings himself
athwart his course, and both champions are slain_. ]


XX

But north looked the Dictator;
North looked he long and hard;
And spake to Caius Cossus,
The Captain of his Guard: 420
"Caius, of all the Romans
Thou hast the keenest sight;
Say, what through yonder storm of dust
Comes from the Latian right? "


XXI

Then answered Caius Cossus 425
"I see an evil sight;
The banner of proud Tusculum
Comes from the Latian right:
I see the plumed horsemen;
And far before the rest 430
I see the dark-grey charger,
I see the purple vest,
I see the golden helmet
That shines far off like flame;
So ever rides Mamilius, 435
Prince of the Latian name. "


XXII

"Now hearken, Caius Cossus:
Spring on thy horse's back;
Ride as the wolves of Apennine
Were all upon thy track; 440
Haste to our southward battle:
And never draw thy rein
Until thou find Herminius,
And bid him come amain. "


XXIII

So Aulus spake, and turned him 445
Again to that fierce strife,
And Caius Cossus mounted,
And rode for death and life.
Loud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs
The helmets of the dead, 450
And many a curdling pool of blood
Splashed him from heel to head.
So came he far to southward,
Where fought the Roman host,
Against the banners of the marsh 455
And banners of the coast.
Like corn before the sickle
The stout Lavinians fell,
Beneath the edge of the true sword
That kept the bridge so well. 460


XXIV

"Herminius: Aulus greets thee;
He bids thee come with speed,
To help our central battle:
For sore is there our need.
There wars the youngest Tarquin, 465
And there the Crest of Flame,[51]
The Tusculan Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name.
Valerius hath fallen fighting
In front of our array: 470
And Aulus of the seventy fields
Alone upholds the day. "


XXV

Herminius beat his bosom:
But never a word he spake.
He clapped his hand on Auster's mane, 475
He gave the reins a shake:
Away, away went Auster,
Like an arrow from the bow:
Black Auster was the fleetest steed
From Aufidus to Po. [52] 480


XXVI

Right glad were all the Romans
Who, in that hour of dread,
Against great odds bare up the war
Around Valerius dead,
When from the south the cheering 485
Rose with a mighty swell;
"Herminius comes, Herminius,
Who kept the bridge so well! "


XXVII

Mamilius spied Herminius,
And dashed across the way. 490
"Herminius! I have sought thee
Through many a bloody day.
One of us two, Herminius,
Shall never more go home,
I will lay on for Tusculum, 495
And lay thou on for Rome! "


XXVIII

All round them paused the battle,
While met in mortal fray
The Roman and the Tusculan,
The horses black and grey. 500
Herminius smote Mamilius
Through breast-plate and through breast,
And fast flowed out the purple blood
Over the purple vest.
Mamilius smote Herminius 505
Through head-piece and through head;
And side by side those chiefs of pride
Together fell down dead.
Down fell they dead together
In a great lake of gore; 510
And still stood all who saw them fall
While men might count a score.


[_Mamilius' charger dashes off to Tusculum, Black Auster remains by
his master's body. Titus attempts to mount him, but is slain by
Aulus the Dictator_. ]


XXIX

Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning,
The dark-grey charger fled:
He burst through ranks of fighting men; 515
He sprang o'er heaps of dead.
His bridle far out-streaming,
His flanks all blood and foam,
He sought the southern mountains,
The mountains of his home. 520
The pass was steep and rugged,
The wolves they howled and whined;
But he ran like a whirlwind up the pass,
And he left the wolves behind.
Through many a startled hamlet 525
Thundered his flying feet;
He rushed through the gate of Tusculum,
He rushed up the long white street;
He rushed by tower and temple,
And paused not from his race 530
Till he stood before his master's door
In the stately market-place.
And straightway round him gathered
A pale and trembling crowd,
And when they knew him, cries of rage 535
Brake forth, and wailing loud:
And women rent their tresses
For their great prince's fall;
And old men girt on their old swords,
And went to man the wall. 540


XXX

But, like a graven image,
Black Auster kept his place,
And ever wistfully he looked
Into his master's face.
The raven-mane that daily, 545
With pats and fond caresses,
The young Herminia washed and combed,
And twined in even tresses,
And decked with coloured ribands
From her own gay attire, 550
Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse
In carnage and in mire.
Forth with a shout sprang Titus,
And seized Black Auster's rein.
Then Aulus sware a fearful oath, 555
And ran at him amain.
"The furies of thy brother[53]
With me and mine abide,
If one of your accursed house
Upon black Auster ride! " 560
As on an Alpine watch-tower
From heaven comes down the flame,
Full on the neck of Titus
The blade of Aulus came:
And out the red blood spouted, 565
In a wide arch and tall,
As spouts a fountain in the court
Of some rich Capuan's[54] hall.
The knees of all the Latines
Were loosened with dismay 570
When dead, on dead Herminius,
The bravest Tarquin lay.


[_Aulus prepares to mount black Auster, when he spies two strange
horsemen by his side. These are Castor and Pollux, who charge at the
head of the Roman army_.