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 LA YS OF ANCIENT ROME 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 IVRY, THE ARMADA, A RADICAL WAR 
 
 SONG, THE BA TTLE OF MONCONTOUR, 
 
 SONGS OF THE CIVIL IV A R 
 
 BY 
 
 LORD MACAU LA V 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE SCHARF, Jzm. 
 
 iXEVy YORK AND LONDON 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 Ube Tknicljerbocfter press
 
 Press ot 
 
 G. P. Putnam's sons 
 
 New York
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I,AYS OF ANCIENT ROMK. 
 
 Preface i 
 
 HoRATius 41 
 
 The Battle of the I^ake Regillus ... 83 
 
 VlRGLNTA 139 
 
 The Prophecy of Capys 1S3 
 
 miscelIvAn:e:ous poems. 
 
 IVRY : A SONG OF the HUGUENOTS . . . • 215 
 
 The Armada : A Fragment 221 
 
 A Radical War-Song 227 
 
 The Battle of Moncontour 231 
 
 Songs of the Civil War 233 
 
 2230733
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THAT what is called the history of the kings 
 and early consuls of Rome is to a great ex- 
 tent fabulous, few scholars have, since the time 
 of Beaufort, ventured to deny. It is certain 
 that, more than three hundred and sixty years 
 after the date ordinarily assigned for the foun- 
 dation of the city, the public records were, 
 with scarcely an exception, destroyed by the 
 Gauls. It is certain that the oldest annals of 
 the commonwealth were compiled more than 
 a century and a half after this destruction of the 
 records. It is certain, therefore, that the great 
 Latin writers of the Augustan age did not pos- 
 sess those materials, without which a trust-
 
 preface 
 
 worthy account of the infancy of the republic 
 could not possibly be framed. Those writers 
 own, indeed, that the chronicles to which they 
 had access were filled with battles that were 
 never fought, and consuls that were never in- 
 augurated ; and we have abundant proof that, 
 in these chronicles, events of the greatest im- 
 portance, such as the issue of the war with Por- 
 sena, and the issue of the war with Brennus, 
 were grossly misrepresented. Under these cir- 
 cumstances a wise man will look with great 
 suspicion on the legend which has come down 
 to us. He will perhaps be inclined to regard 
 the princes who are said to have founded the 
 civil and religious institutions of Rome, the 
 son of Mars, and the husband of Egeria, as 
 mere mythological personages, of the same 
 class with Perseus and Ixion. As he draws 
 nearer and nearer to the confines of authentic 
 history, he will become less and less hard of 
 belief. He will admit that the most important 
 parts of the narrative have some foundation in 
 truth. But he will distrust almost all the de- 
 tails, not only because they seldom rest on any
 
 preface 
 
 solid evidence, but also because he will con- 
 stantly detect in them, even when they are 
 within the limits of physical possibility, that 
 peculiar character, more easily understood than 
 defined, which distinguishes the creations of 
 the imagination from the realities of the world 
 in which we live. 
 
 The early history of Rome is indeed far more 
 poetical than any thing else in the Latin litera- 
 ture. The loves of the Vestal and the Good 
 War, the cradle laid among the reeds of Tiber, 
 the fig-tree, the she-wolf, the shepherd's cabin, 
 the recognition, the fratricide, the rape of the 
 Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall of Hostus 
 Hostilius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius 
 through the marsh, the women rushing with 
 torn raiment and dishevelled hair between their 
 fathers and their husbands, the nightly meet- 
 ings of Numa and the Nymph by the well in 
 the sacred grove, the fight of the three Romans 
 and the three Albans, the purchase of the 
 Sibylline books, the crime of Tullia, the simu- 
 lated madness of Brutus, the ambiguous reply 
 of the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the
 
 preface 
 
 wrongs of Lucretia, the heroic actions of Ho- 
 ratius Codes, of Scaevola, and of Cloelia, the 
 battle of Regillus won by the aid of Castor and 
 Pollux, the defence of Cremera, the touching 
 story of Coriolanus, the still more touching 
 story of Virginia, the wild legend about the 
 draining of the Alban lake, the combat between 
 Valerius Corvus and the gigantic Gaul, are 
 among the many instances which wnll at once 
 suggest themselves to every reader. 
 
 In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of 
 fine imagination, these stories retain much of 
 their genuine character. Nor could even the 
 tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate them 
 into mere prose. The poetry shines, in spite of 
 him, through the dreary pedantry of his eleven 
 books. It is discernible in the most tedious 
 and in the most superficial modem works on 
 the early times of Rome. It enlivens the dul- 
 ness of the "Universal History," and gives a 
 charm to the most meagre abridgments of Gold- 
 smith. 
 
 Even in the age of Plutarch there were dis- 
 cerning men w^ho rejected the popular account
 
 preface 
 
 of the foundation of Rome, because that .ac- 
 count appeared to them to have the air, not of 
 a histor)-, but of a romance or a drama. Plu- 
 tarch, who was displeased at their incredulity, 
 had nothing better to say in reply to their argu- 
 ments than that chance sometimes turns poet, ■ 
 and produces trains of events not to be dis- 
 tinguished from the most elaborate plots which 
 are constructed by art.* But though the exist- 
 ence of a poetical element in the early history 
 of the Great City was detected so many years 
 ago, the first critic who distinctly saw from 
 what source that poetical element had been 
 derived was James Perizonius, one of the most 
 acute and learned antiquaries of the seven- 
 teenth century. His theory, which, in his own 
 
 * 'YTTOTrTOv fjikv evi'oi? ecrrl to Spa/xaTiKov kol 7rAa<rjaaTu)6es. 
 ov Set Se aniaTelv, rr^v rvxyju opuiVTa<;, o'iwv noirjixdTojp 6tj. 
 ju-iovpyos eo-Tt — Pliii. Rom. viii. This remarkable passage 
 has been more grossly misinterpreted than any other in 
 the Greek language, where the sense was so obvious. 
 The lyatin version of Cruserius, the French version of 
 Amyot, the old English version by several hands, and 
 the latter English version by I^anghorne, are all equally 
 destitute of every trace of the meaning of the original. 
 None of the translators saw even that TrotTjuxa is a 
 poem. They all render it an event.
 
 preface 
 
 days, attracted little or no notice, was revived 
 in the present generation by Niebuhr, a man 
 who would have been the first writer of his 
 time, if his talent for communicating truths 
 had borne any proportion of his talent for 
 investigating them. That theory has been 
 adopted by several eminent scholars of our 
 own country, particularly by the Bishop of 
 St. David's, by Professor Maiden, and by the 
 lamented Arnold. It appears to be now gen- 
 erally received by men conversant with clas- 
 sical antiquity ; and indeed it rests on such 
 strong proofs, both internal and external, that 
 it will not be easily subverted. A popular ex- 
 position of this theory, and of the evidence by 
 which it is supported, may not be without in- 
 terest even for readers who are unacquainted 
 with the ancient languages. 
 
 The Latin literature which has come down to 
 us is of later date than the commencement of 
 the Second Punic War, and consists almost ex- 
 clusively of works fashioned on Greek models. 
 The Latin metres, heroic, elegiac, lyric, and 
 dramatic, are of Greek origin. The best Latin
 
 Preface 
 
 epic poetry is the feeble echo of the Iliad and 
 Odyssey. The best Latin eclogues are imita- 
 tions of Theocritus. The plan of the most fin- 
 ished didactic poem in the Latin tongue was 
 taken from Hesiod. The Latin tragedies are 
 bad copies of the masterpieces of Sophocles and 
 Euripides. The Latin comedies are free trans- 
 lations from Demophilus, Menander, and Apol- 
 lodorus. The Latin philosophy was borrowed, 
 without alteration, from the Portico and the 
 Academy ; and the great Latin orators con- 
 stantly proposed to themselves as patterns the 
 speeches of Demosthenes and Lysias. 
 
 But there was an earlier Latin literature, a 
 literature truly Latin, which has wholly per- 
 ished, which had, indeed, almost wholly per- 
 ished long before those whom we are in the 
 habit of regarding as the greatest Latin writers 
 were born. That literature abounded with met- 
 rical romances, such as are found in every 
 country where there are much curiosity and in- 
 telligence, but little reading and writing. All 
 human beings, not utterly savage, long for 
 some information about past times, and are de-
 
 8 preface 
 
 \ 
 
 lighted by narratives which present pictures to 
 the eye of the mind. But it is only in very en- 
 lightened communities that books are readily 
 accessible. Metrical composition, therefore, 
 which, in a highly civilized nation, is a mere 
 luxury, is, in nations imperfectly civilized, al 
 most a necessary of life, and is valued less on^ 
 account of the pleasure which it gives to the ear 
 than on account of the help which it gives to 
 the memoryjl A man who can invent or embel- 
 lish an interesting story, and put it into a form 
 which others may easily retain in their recollec- 
 tion, will always be highly esteemed by a people! 
 eager for amuserment and information, but des-l 
 titute of libraries./ {Such is the origin of ballad 
 poetry, a species of composition which scarcely 
 ever fails to spring up and flourish in every so- 
 ciety, at a certain point in the progress towards 
 refinement. Tacitus informs us that songs were 
 the only memorials of the past which the ancient 
 Germans possessed. We learn from Lucan and 
 from Ammianus Marcellinus that the brave ac- 
 tions of the ancient Gauls were commemorated 
 in the verses of bards. During man}- ages, and
 
 preface 
 
 through many revolutions, minstrelsy retained 
 its influence over both the Teutonic and the 
 Celtic race. The vengeance exacted by the 
 spouse of Attila for the murder of Siegfried was 
 celebrated in rhymes, of which Germany is still 
 justly proud. The exploits of Athelstane were 
 commemorated by the Anglo-Saxons, and those 
 of Canute by the Danes, in rude poems, of 
 which a few fragments have come down to us. 
 The chants of the Welsh harpers preserved, 
 through ages of darkness, a faint and doubtful 
 memory of Arthur. In the Highlands of Scot- 
 land may still be gleaned some relics of the old 
 songs about Cuthullin and Fingal. The long 
 struggle of the Servians against the Ottoman 
 power was recorded in lays full of martial spirit. 
 We learn from Herrera that, when a Peruvian 
 Inca died, men of skill were appointed to cele- 
 brate him in verses, which all the people learned 
 by heart, and sang in public on days of festival. 
 The feats of Kurroglou, the great freebooter of 
 Turkistan, recounted in ballads composed by 
 himself, are known in every village of Northern 
 Persia. Captain Beechey heard the bards of
 
 10 preface 
 
 1 
 
 the Sandwich Islands recite the heroic achieve- 
 ments of Tamehameha, the most illustrious of 
 their kings. Mungo Park found in the heart of 
 Africa a class of singing men, the only annalists 
 of their rude tribes, and heard them tell the 
 story of the victory which Darnel, the negro 
 prince of the Jaloffs, won over Abdulkader, the 
 Mussulman tyrant of Foota Torra. This species 
 of poetry attained a high degree of excellence 
 among the Castilians, before they began to copy 
 Tuscan patterns. It attained a still higher de- 
 gree of excellence among the English and the 
 Lowland Dutch, during the fourteenth, fif- 
 teenth, and sixteenth centuries. But it reached 
 its full perfection in ancient Greece ; for there 
 can be no doubt that the great Homeric poems 
 are generically ballads, though widely dis- 
 tinguished from all other ballads, and indeed 
 from almost all other human compositions, by 
 transcendent sublimity and beauty. 
 
 As it is agreeable to general experience that 
 at a certain stage in the progress of society bal- 
 lad poetry should flourish, so it is also agreeable 
 to general experience that at a subsequent stage
 
 preface 
 
 in the progress of society ballad poetrj^ should 
 be undervalued and neglected. Knowledge 
 advances : manners change : great foreign mod- 
 els of composition are studied and imitated. 
 The phraseology of the old minstrels becomes 
 obsolete. Their versification, which, having 
 received its laws only from the ear, abounds in 
 irregularities, seems licentious and uncouth. 
 Their simplicity appears beggarly when com- 
 pared with the quaint forms and gaudy coloring 
 of such artists as Cowley and Gongora. The 
 ancient lays, unjustly despised by the learned 
 and polite, linger for a time in the memory of 
 the vulgar, and are at length too often irretriev- 
 ably lost. We cannot wonder that the ballads 
 of Rome should have altogether disappeared, 
 when we remember how very narrowly, in spite 
 of the invention of printing, those of our own 
 country and those of Spain escaped the same 
 fate. There is indeed little doubt that oblivion 
 covers many English songs equal to any that 
 were published by Bishop Percy, and many 
 Spanish songs as good as the best of those which 
 have been so happily translated by Mr. Lock-
 
 12 preface 
 
 hart. Eighty years ago England possessed only 
 one tattered copy of " Childe Waters and Sir 
 Cauline," and Spain only one tattered copy of 
 the noble poem of the " Cid." The snufF of a 
 candle, or a mischievous dog, might in a mo- 
 ment have deprived the world forever of (any 
 of) those fine compositions. Sir Walter Scott, 
 who united to the fire of a great poet the minute 
 curiosity and patient diligence of a great anti- 
 quary, was but just in time to save the precious 
 relics of the "Minstrelsy of the Border." In 
 Germany, the lay of the Nibelungs had been 
 long utterly forgotten, when in the eighteenth 
 century it was, for the first time, printed from 
 a manuscript in the old library of a noble fam- 
 ily. In truth, the only people who, through their 
 whole passage from simplicity to the highest 
 civilization, never for a moment ceased to love 
 and admire their old ballads, were the Greeks. 
 
 That the early Romans should have had bal- 
 lad poetry, and that this poetry should have 
 perished, is therefore not strange. It would, 
 on the contrary, have been strange if these 
 things had not come to pass ; and we should be
 
 preface 13 
 
 justified in pronouncing them highly probable, 
 even if we had no direct evidence on the sub- 
 ject. But we have direct evidence of unques- 
 tionable authority. 
 
 Ennius, who flourished in the time of the 
 Second Punic War, was regarded in the Augus- 
 tan age as the father of Latin poetry. He was, 
 in truth, the father of the second school of 
 Latin poetry, the only school of which the 
 works have descended to us. But from Ennius 
 himself we learn that there were poets who 
 stood to him in the same relation in which the 
 author of the romance of" Count Alarcos " stood 
 to Garcilaso, or the author of the *'Lytell 
 Geste of Robyn Hode " to Lord Surrey. En- 
 nius speaks of verses which the fauns and the 
 bards were wont to chant in the old time, when 
 none had yet studied the graces of speech, 
 when none had yet climbed the peaks sacred to 
 the goddesses of Grecian song. " Where," 
 Cicero mournfully asks, "are those old verses 
 now?" * 
 
 * " Quid ? Nostri veteres versus ubi sunt ? 
 . . . ' Quos olim Fauni vatesque canebant,
 
 14 Ipjrcface 
 
 Contemporary with Enuius was Quintus Fab- 
 ius Pictor, the earliest of the Roman annalists. 
 His account of the infancy and youth of Rom- 
 ulus and Remus has been preserved by Dio- 
 nysius, and contains a very remarkable refer- 
 ence to the ancient Latin poetry. Fabius says 
 that in his time his countrymen were still in the 
 habit of singing ballads about the Twins. " Ev- 
 en in the hut of Faustulus," — so these old lays 
 appear to have run, — "the children of Rhea 
 and Mars were, in port and in spirit, not like 
 unto swineherds or cowherds, but such that men 
 
 Cum neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superarat, 
 Nee dicti studiosus erat.' " Brutus, xviii. 
 
 The Muses, it should be obsen'ed, are Greek divinities. 
 The Italian goddesses of verse were the Camoenae. At a 
 later period, the appellations were used indiscriminate- 
 ly ; but in the age of Ennius there was probably a dis- 
 tinction. In the epitaph of Nsevius, who was the rep- 
 resentative of the old Italian school of poetry, the 
 Camoenae, not the Muses, are represented as grieving for 
 the loss of their votary. The "Musarum scopuli " are 
 evidently the peaks of Parnassus. 
 
 Scaliger, in a note on Varro {De Lingua Latina, lib. 
 vi.), suggests with great ingenuity that the fauns, who 
 were represented by the superstition of later ages as a 
 race of monsters, half gods and half brutes, may really 
 have been a class of men who exercised in L,atium, at a 
 very remote period, the same functions which belonged 
 to the magians in Persia and to the bards in Gaul.
 
 Ipreface 15 
 
 might well guess them to be of the blood of 
 kings and gods." •* 
 
 Cato the Censor, who also lived in the days of 
 
 * Oi 8e avSpuOevTe^ yivovrat, Kara re a^LMcriv /u.op</)rj? /cat 
 (^poi'rjjLtaTO? oyKOv, ov <ruo(/)op^ot? KaX j3ovk6Aoi5 eoi/core?, aAA' 
 oiov? av Tts a^coicreie tou? e/c ^acnkeiov re (^vvra^ ve'voi;?, /cai 
 dirb 6ai/a6i'wi' CTTropas ■yeveVSaifOjU.t^Oju.eVov?, cb? e;' rots Trarpt'oi? 
 v^ij'ots VTTo 'Pwjuatwv ert koX vvv aSerai. — Dion. Hdl., i. 79. 
 This passage has sometimes been cited as if Dionysius 
 had been speaking in his own person, and had, Greek as 
 he was, been so industrious or so fortunate as to discover 
 some valuable remains of that early I^atin poetry which 
 the greatest Latin writers of his age regretted as hope- 
 lessly' lost. Such a supposition is highly improbable ; and 
 indeed it seems clear from the context that Dionysius, 
 as Reiske and other editors evidently thought, was 
 merely quoting from Fabius Pictor. The whole passage 
 has the air of an extract from an ancient chronicle, and 
 is introduced by the words, Koii'to? ixkv <l>ai3io?, 6 Ilt/cTwp 
 Aeyo/u.ei'o?, rfihe ypd(f)€t- 
 
 Another argument may be urged which seems to de- 
 serve consideration. The author of the passage in ques- 
 tion mentions a thatched hut which in his time stood 
 between the summit of Mount Palatine and the Circus. 
 This hut, he says, was built by Romulus, and was con- 
 stantly kept in repair at the public charge, but never in 
 any respect embellished. Now, in the age of Dionysius 
 there certainly was at Rome a thatched hut, said to have 
 been that of Romulus. But this hut, as we learn from 
 Vitruvius, stood, not near the Circus, but in the Capitol. 
 {yit.ii., I.) If, therefore, we understand Dionysius to 
 speak in his own person, we can reconcile his statement 
 with that of Vitruvius only by supposing that there were 
 at Rome in the Augustan age two thatched huts, both
 
 i6 {preface 
 
 the Second Punic War, mentioned this lost 
 literature in his lost work on the antiquities of 
 his country. Many ages, he said, before his 
 time, there were ballads in praise of illustrious 
 men ; and these ballads it was the fashion for 
 believed to have been built by Romulus, and both care- 
 fully repaired and held in high honor. The objections 
 to such a supposition seem to be strong. Neither Dio- 
 nysius nor Vitruvius speaks of more than one such hut. 
 Die Cassius informs us that twice during the long ad- 
 ministration of Augustus the hut of Romulus caught 
 fire, (xlviii., 43, liv. 29.) Had there been two such huts, 
 would he not have told us of which he spoke? An Eng- 
 lish historian would hardly give an account of a fire at 
 Queen's College without saying whether it was at 
 Queen's College, Oxford, or at Queen's College, Cam- 
 bridge. Marcus Seneca, Macrobius, and Conon, a Greek 
 writer from whom Photius has made large extracts, 
 mention only one hut of Romulus,— that in the Capitol. 
 {M. Seneca, Contr., i., 6 ; Macrobius, Sat., {., 15 , Photius, 
 Bibl., 186.) Ovid, lyivy, Petronius, Valerius Maximus, 
 I,ucius Seneca, and St. Jerome mention only one hut of 
 Romulus without specifying the site. {Ovid. Fasti, iii., 
 183 ; Liv., v., 53 ; Petronius, Fragm. ; Val. Max., iv., 4 ; 
 L. Seneca, Consolatio ad Helviam ; D. Hieroti. ad Paulini- 
 anum de Didymo.) 
 
 The whole difficulty is removed, if we suppose that 
 Dionysius was merelj' quoting Fabius Pictor. Nothing 
 is more probable than that the cabin, which in the time 
 of Fabius stood near the Circus, might, long before the 
 age of Augustus, have been transported to the Capitol, 
 as the place fittest, by reason both of its safety and of its 
 sanctity, to contain so precious a relic. 
 
 The language of Plutarch confirms this hypothesis.
 
 preface 17 
 
 the guests at banquets to sing in turn while the 
 piper played. "Would," exclaims Cicero, 
 " that we still had the old ballads of which Cato 
 speaks ! " * 
 
 Valerius Maximus gives us exactly similar in- 
 formation, without mentioning his authority, 
 and observes that the ancient Roman ballads 
 
 He describes with great precision the spot where Romu- 
 lus dwelt, on the slope of Mount Palatine leading to the 
 Circus ; but he says not a word implying that the dwell- 
 ing was still to be seen there. Indeed, his expressions 
 imply that it was no longer there. The evidence of 
 Solinus is still more to the point. He, like Plutarch, 
 describes the spot where Romulus had resided, and 
 says expressly that the hut had been there, but that 
 in his time it was there no longer. The site, it is cer- 
 tain, was well-remembered ; and probably retained its 
 old name, as Charing Cross and the Haymarket have 
 done. This is probably the explanation of the words 
 "casa Romuli," in Victor's description of the Tenth 
 Region of Rome, under Valentinian. 
 
 * Cicero refers twice to this important passage in Cato's 
 Antiquities : '' Gravissimus auctor in Originibus dixit 
 Cato, morem apud majores hunc epularum fuisse, ut 
 deinceps, qui accubarent, canerent ad tibiam clarorum 
 \nrorum laudes atque virtutes. Ex quo perspicuum est, 
 et cantus tum fuisse rescript osvocum sonis,etcarmina." 
 — Tusc. Quczst., iv., 2. Again : " Utinam exstarent ilia 
 carmina, quse, multis sseculis ante suam aetatem, in 
 epulis esse cantitata a singulis convivis de clarorum viro- 
 rum laudibus, in Originibus scriptum reliquit Cato." — 
 Brutus, xix.
 
 r8 preface 
 
 were probably of more benefit to the young than 
 all the lectures of the Athenian schools, and 
 that to the influence of the national poetry were 
 to be ascribed the virtues of such men as Camillus 
 and Fabricius.* 
 
 Varro, whose authority on all questions con- 
 nected with the antiquities of his country is 
 entitled to the greatest respect, tells us that at 
 banquets it was once the fashion for boys to 
 sing, sometimes with and sometimes without 
 instrumental music, ancient ballads in praise of 
 men of former times. These young performers, 
 he observes, were of unblemished character, a 
 circumstance which he probably mentioned be- 
 cause, among the Greeks, and indeed in his 
 time among the Romans also, the morals of 
 singing boys were in no high repute, f 
 
 * " Majores natu in conviviis ad tibias egregia superio- 
 rum opera carmine comprehensa pangebant, quo ad ea 
 imitandajuventutem alacriorem redderent. . . . Quas 
 Athenas, quam scholam, quae alienigena studia huic 
 domesticae disciplinse praetulerim ? Inde oriebantur 
 Camilli, Scipiones, Fabricii,Marcelli,Fabii."— Fc/. Max., 
 ii., I. 
 
 f " In conviviis pueri modesti ut cantarent carmina 
 antiqua, in quibus laudes erant niajorum, et assa voce, 
 et cum tibicine." — Nonius, Assa voce pro sola.
 
 preface 19 
 
 The testimony of Horace, though given inci- 
 dentally, confirms the statements of Cato, Vale- 
 rius Maximus, and Varro. The poet predicts 
 that, under the peaceful administration of Au- 
 gustus, the Romans will, over their full goblets, 
 sing to the pipe, after the fashion of their 
 fathers, the deeds of brave captains, and the 
 ancient legends touching the origin of the city.* 
 
 The proposition, then, that Rome had ballad- 
 poetry is not merely in itself highly probable, 
 but is fully proved by direct evidence of the 
 greatest weight. 
 
 This proposition being established, it becomes 
 easy to understand why the early history of the 
 city is unlike almost every thing else in Latin 
 literature, native where almost every thing else 
 is borrowed, imaginative where almost every 
 
 Nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris, 
 Inter jocosi munera Liberi, 
 
 Cum prole matronisque nostris, 
 Rite Deos prius apprecati, 
 Virtute functos, more patrum, duces, 
 I,ydis remixto carmine tibiis, 
 
 Trojamque, et Anchisen, et almae 
 Progeniem Veneris canemus." 
 
 Carm., iv., 15.
 
 20 preface 
 
 thing else is prosaic. We can scarcely hesitate 
 to pronounce that the magnificent, pathetic, 
 and truly national legends, which present so 
 striking a contrast to all that surrounds them, 
 are broken and defaced fragments of that early 
 poetry which, even in the age of Cato the Cen- 
 sor, had become antiquated, and of which Tully 
 had never heard a line. 
 
 That this poetry should have been suffered to 
 perish will not appear strange when we con- 
 sider how complete was the triumph of the 
 Greek genius over the public mind of Italy. It 
 is probable that at an early period Homer and 
 Herodotus furnished some hints to the Latin 
 minstrels * ; but it is not till after the war with 
 Pyrrhus that the poetry of Rome began to put 
 off its old Ausonian character. The transfor- 
 mation was soon consummated. The con- 
 quered, says Horace, led captive the conquer- 
 ors. It was precisely at the time at which the 
 people rose to unrivalled political ascendancy 
 that they stooped to pass under the intellectual 
 yoke. It was precisely at the time at which the 
 
 * See the preface to the Lay of the Battle of Regillus.
 
 Ipretace 21 
 
 sceptre departed from Greece that the empire 
 of her language and of her arts became uni- 
 versal and despotic. The revolution, indeed, 
 was not effected without a struggle. Naevius 
 seems to have been the last of the ancient line 
 of poets. Bnnius was the founder of a new 
 dynasty. Naevius celebrated the First Punic 
 War in Saturnian verse, the old national verse 
 of Italy.* Knnius sang the Second Punic War 
 
 * Cicero speaks highly in more than one place of 
 this poem of Nsevius ; Ennius sneered at it, and stole 
 from it. 
 
 As to the Saturnian measure, see Hermann's Elementa 
 Doctrin<E MetriccE, iii., 9 
 
 The Saturnian line, according to the grammarians, 
 consisted of two parts. The first was a catalectic dime- 
 ter iambic ; the second was composed of three trochees. 
 But the license taken by the early I^atin poets seems to 
 have been almost boundless. The most perfect Satur- 
 nian line which has been preserved was the work, not 
 of a professional artist, but of an amateur : 
 
 " Dabunt malum Metelli Ngevio poetse." 
 
 There has been much difference of opinion among 
 learned men respecting the history of this measure. 
 That it is the same with a Greek measure used by 
 Archilochus is indisputable. {Bentley, Phalaris, xi.) But 
 in spite of the authority of Terentianus Maurus, and of 
 the still higher authority of Bentley, we may venture to 
 doubt whether the coincidence was not fortuitous. We 
 constantly find the same rude and simple numbers
 
 22 preface 
 
 in numbers borrowed from the Iliad. The elder 
 poet, in the epitaph which he wrote for himself, 
 
 in diflferent countries, under circumstances which make 
 it impossible to suspect that there has been imitation 
 on either side. Bishop Heber heard the children of a 
 village in Bengal singing Radha, Radha, to the tune of 
 My boy Billy. Neither the Castilian nor the German 
 minstrels of the middle ages owed any thing to Paros 
 or to ancient Rome. Yet both the poem of the Cid and 
 the poem of the Nibelungs contain many Saturnian ver-* 
 ses ; as — 
 
 " Kstas nuevas d mio Cid eran venidas." 
 " A mi lo dicen ; & ti dan las orejadas." 
 
 " Man mohte michel wunder von Sifride sagen." 
 " Wa ich den Kiinic vinde daz sol man mir sagen." 
 
 Indeed there cannot be a more perfect Saturnian line 
 than one which is sung in every English nursery — 
 " Thequeen was in her parlor eating bread and honey "; 
 
 yet the author of this line, we may be assured, borrowed 
 nothing from either Nsevius or Archilochus. 
 
 On the other hand, it is by no means improbable that 
 two or three hundred years before the time of Ennius, 
 some lyatin minstrel may have visited Sybaris or Cro- 
 tona, may have heard some verses of Archilochus sung, 
 may have been pleased with the metre, and may have 
 introduced it at Rome. This much is certain, that the 
 Saturnian measure, if not a native of Italy, was at least 
 so early and so completely naturalized there that its for- 
 eign origin was forgotten. 
 
 Bentley says indeed that the Saturnian measure was 
 first brought from Greece into Italy by Naevius. But 
 this is merely obiter dictum , to use a phrase common in
 
 IPreface 23 
 
 and -which is a fine specimen of the early- 
 Roman diction and versification, plaintively 
 
 our courts of law, and would not have been deliberately 
 maintained by that incomparable critic, whose memory 
 is held in reverence by all lovers of learning. The argu- 
 ments which might be brought against Bentley's asser- 
 tion—for it is mere assertion, supported by no evidence 
 —are innumerable. A few will suffice : 
 
 1. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of 
 Ennius. Ennius sneered at Naevius for writing on the 
 First Punic War in verses such as the old Italian bards 
 used before Greek literature had been studied. Now 
 the poem of Naevius was in Satumian verse. Is it possi- 
 ble that Ennius could have used such expressions, if the 
 Saturnian verse had been just imported from Greece for 
 the first time ? 
 
 2. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of 
 Horace. " When Greece," says Horace, '' introduced her 
 arts into our unci%nlized country, those rugged Satur- 
 nian numbers passed away . " Would Horace have said 
 this if the Saturnian numbers had been imported from 
 Greece just before the hexameter? 
 
 3. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of 
 Festus and of Aurelius Victor, both of whom positively 
 say that the most ancient prophecies attributed to the 
 fauns were in Saturnian verse. 
 
 4. Bentley's assertion is opposed to the testimony of 
 Terentianus Maurus, to whom he has himself appealed. 
 Terentianus Maurus does indeed say that the Satumian 
 measure, though believed by the Romans from a very 
 early period (" credidit vetustas ") to be of Italian inven- 
 tion, was really borrowed from the Greeks. But Teren- 
 tianus Maurus does not say that it was first borrowed by 
 Naevius. Nay, the expressions used by Terentianus
 
 24 fbretace 
 
 boasted that the Latin language had died with 
 him.* Thus what to Horace appeared to be 
 the first faint dawn of Roman literature, ap- 
 peared to Nsevius to be its hopeless setting. In 
 truth, one literature was setting, and another 
 dawning. 
 
 The victory of the foreign taste was decisive ; 
 and indeed we can hardly blame the Romans 
 for turning away with contempt from the rude 
 lays which had delighted their fathers, and giv- 
 ing their whole admiration to the immortal 
 productions of Greece. The national romances, 
 neglected by the great and the refined whose 
 education had been finished at Rhodes or 
 Athens, continued, it may be supposed, during 
 some generations, to delight the vidgar. While 
 
 Maurus clearly imply the contrary. For how could the 
 Romans have believed, from a very early period, that 
 this measure was the indigenous production of Latium, 
 if it was really brought over from Greece in an age of 
 intelligence and liberal curiosity, in the age which gave 
 birth to Ennius, Plautus, Cato the Censor, and other dis- 
 ting-uished writers ? If Bentley 's assertion were correct, 
 there could have been no more doubt at Rome about the 
 Greek origin of the Saturnian measure than about the 
 Greek origin of hexameters or Sapphics. 
 * Aulus Gellius, Nodes AtticcB, i., 24.
 
 Ipreface 25 
 
 Virgil, in hexameters of exquisite modulation, 
 described the sports of rustics, those rustics 
 were still singing their wild Saturnian ballads.* 
 It is not improbable that, at the time w^hen 
 Cicero lamented the irreparable loss of the 
 poems mentioned by Cato, a search among the 
 nooks of the Apennines, as active as the search 
 which Sir Walter Scott made among the de- 
 scendants of the moss-troopers of Liddesdale, 
 might have brought to light many fine remains 
 of ancient minstrelsy. No such search w^as 
 made. The Ivatin ballads perished forever. 
 Yet discerning critics have thought that they 
 could still perceive in the early history of Rome 
 numerous fragments of this lost poetry, as the 
 traveller on classic ground sometimes finds, 
 built into the hea\y wall of a fort or convent, a 
 pillar rich with acanthus leaves, or a frieze 
 where the Amazons and Bacchanals seem to 
 live. The theatres and temples of the Greek 
 and the Roman were degraded into the quarries 
 of the Turk and the Goth. Even so did the 
 ancient Saturnian poetry become the quarry in 
 * See Servius, in Georg. ii., 385.
 
 26 preface 
 
 which a crowd of orators and annalists found 
 the materials for their prose. 
 
 It is not difiScult to trace the process by 
 •which the old songs were transmuted into the 
 form which they now wear. Funeral panegyric 
 and chronicle appear to have been the interme- 
 diate links which connected the lost ballads 
 with the histories now extant. From a very 
 early period it was the usage that an oration 
 should be pronounced over the remains of a 
 noble Roman. The orator, as we learn from 
 Polybius, was expected, on such an occasion, 
 to recapitulate all the services which the ances- 
 tors of the deceased had, from the earliest time, 
 rendered to the commonwealth. There can be 
 little doubt that the speaker on whom this duty 
 was imposed would make use of all the stories 
 suited to his purpose which were to be found in 
 the popular lays. There can be as little doubt 
 that the family of an eminent man would pre- 
 serve a copy of the speech which had been 
 pronounced over his corpse. The compilers of 
 the early chronicles would have recourse to 
 these speeches ; and the great historians of a
 
 preface 27 
 
 later period would have recourse to the chron- 
 icles. 
 
 It may be worth while to select a particular 
 stor>', and to trace its probable progress through 
 these stages. The description of the migration 
 of the Fabian house to Cremera is one of the 
 finest of the many fine passages which lie thick 
 in the earlier books of Livy. The Consul, clad 
 in his military garb, stands in the vestibule of 
 his house, marshalling his clan, three hundred 
 and six fighting men, all of the same proud 
 patrician blood, all worthy to be attended by 
 the fasces, and to command the legions. A sad 
 and anxious retinue of friends accompanies the 
 adventurers through the streets ; but the voice 
 of lamentation is drowned by the shouts of ad- 
 miring thousands. As the procession passes 
 the Capitol, prayers and vows are poured forth, 
 but in vain. The devoted band, lea\dng Janus 
 on the right, marches to its doom through the 
 Gate of Evil Luck. After achieving high deeds 
 of valor against overwhelming numbers, all 
 perish save one child, the stock from which the 
 great Fabian race was destined again to spring
 
 28 f^retace 
 
 for the safety and glory of the commonwealth. 
 That this fine romance, the details of which are 
 so full of poetical truth, and so utterly destitute 
 of all show of historical truth, came originally 
 from some lay which had often been sung with 
 great applause at banquets, is in the highest 
 degree probable. Nor is it difl&cult to imagine 
 a mode in which the transmission might have 
 taken place. The celebrated Quintus Fabius 
 Maximus, who died about twenty years before 
 the First Punic "War, and more than forty years 
 before Bnnius was born, is said to have been 
 interred with extraordinary pomp. In the eulo- 
 gy pronounced over his body all the great 
 exploits of his ancestors were doubtless recount- 
 ed and exaggerated. If there were then extant 
 songs which gave a vivid and touching descrip- 
 tion of an event, the saddest and the most 
 glorious in the long history of the Fabian house, 
 nothing could be more natural than that the 
 panegyrist should borrow from such songs their 
 finest touches, in order to adorn his speech. A 
 few generations later the songs would perhaps 
 be forgotten, or remembered only by shepherds
 
 ll^retace 29 
 
 and vine-dressers. But the speech would cer- 
 tainly be presen-ed in the archives of the Fabian 
 nobles. Fabius Pictor would be well acquainted 
 with a document so interesting to his personal 
 feelings, and would insert large extracts from 
 it in his rude chronicle. That chronicle, as we 
 know, was the oldest to which Livy had access. 
 hivj would at a glance distinguish the bold 
 strokes of the forgotten poet from the dull 
 and feeble narrative by which they were sur- 
 rounded, would retouch them with a delicate 
 and powerful pencil, and would make them 
 immortal. 
 
 That this might happen at Rome can 
 scarcely be doubted ; for something verj- 
 like this has happened in several countries, 
 and, among others, in our own. Perhaps 
 the theory of Perizonius cannot be better il- 
 lustrated than by showing that what he sup- 
 poses to have taken place in ancient times 
 has, beyond all doubt, taken place in modem 
 times. 
 
 " History," says Hume with the utmost grav- 
 ity, " has preserved some instances of Edgar's
 
 so Preface 
 
 amours from which, as from a specimen, we 
 may form a conjecture of the rest." He then 
 tells very agreeably the stories of Elfleda and 
 Elfrida, two stories which have a most sus- 
 picious air of romance, and which, indeed, 
 greatly resemble, in their general character, 
 some of the legends of early Rome. He cites, 
 as his authority for these two tales, the chron- 
 icle of William of Malmesbury, who lived in 
 the time of King Stephen. The great majority 
 of readers suppose that the device by which 
 Elfrida was substituted for her young mistress, 
 the artifice by which Athelwold obtained the 
 hand of Elfrida, the detection of that artifice, 
 the hunting party, and the vengeance of the 
 amorous king, are things about which there is 
 no more doubt than about the execution of 
 Anne Boleyn or the slitting of Sir John Coven- 
 try's nose. But when we turn to William of 
 Malmesbury, we find that Hume, in his eager- 
 ness to relate these pleasant fables, has over- 
 looked one very important circumstance. Wil- 
 liam does indeed tell both the stories ; but he 
 gives us distinct notice that he does not warrant
 
 Ipretace 31 
 
 their tnitli, and that they rest on no better au- 
 thority than that of ballads.* 
 
 Such is the way in which these two well- 
 known tales have been handed down. They 
 originally appeared in a poetical form. They 
 found their way from ballads into an old 
 chronicle. The ballads perished ; the chronicle 
 remained. A great historian, some centuries 
 after the ballads had been altogether forgotten, 
 consulted the chronicle. He was struck by the 
 lively coloring of these ancient fictions ; he 
 transferred them to his pages ; and thus we 
 find inserted, as unquestionable facts, in a 
 narrative which is likely to last as long as the 
 English tongue, the inventions of some min- 
 strel whose works were probably never com- 
 mitted to writing, whose name is buried in 
 oblivion, and whose dialect has become obso- 
 lete. It must, then, be admitted to be possible, 
 or rather highly probable, that the stories of 
 
 * "Infamias quas post dicam magis resperserunt can- 
 tilense." Edgar appears to have been most mercilessly 
 treated in the Anglo-Saxon ballads. He was the favorite 
 of the monks ; and the monks and the minstrels were at 
 deadly feud.
 
 32 {preface 
 
 Romulus and Remus, and of the Horatii and 
 Curiatii, may have had a similar origin. 
 
 Castilian literature will furnish us with an- 
 other parallel case. Mariana, the classical 
 historian of Spain, tells the story of the ill- 
 starred marriage which the King Don Alonso 
 brought about between the heirs of Carrion and 
 the two daughters of the Cid. The Cid be- 
 stowed a princely dower on his sons-in-law. 
 But the young men were base and proud, 
 cowardly and cruel. They were tried in dan- 
 ger, and found wanting. They fled before the 
 Moors, and once, when a lion broke out of his 
 den, they ran and crouched in an unseemly 
 hiding-place. They knew that they were de- 
 spised, and took counsel how they might be 
 avenged. They parted from their father-in- 
 law with many signs of love, and set forth on a 
 journey with Dona Elvira and Dona Sol. In 
 a solitary place the bridegrooms seized their 
 brides, stripped them, scourged them, and de- 
 parted, leaving them for dead. But one of the 
 house of Bivar, suspecting foul play, had fol- 
 lowed the travellers in disguise. The ladies
 
 preface 33 
 
 were brought back safe to the house of their 
 father. Complaint was made to the king. It 
 was adjudged by the Cortes that the dower 
 given by the Cid should be returned, and that 
 the heirs of Carrion, together with one of their 
 kindred, should do battle against three knights 
 of the party of the Cid. The guilty youths 
 would have declined the combat ; but all their 
 shifts were in vain. They were vanquished in 
 the lists, and forever disgraced, while their 
 injured wives were sought in marriage by great 
 princes.* 
 
 Some Spanish writers have labored to show, 
 by an examination of dates and circumstances, 
 that this story is untrue. Such confutation was 
 surely not needed ; for the narrative is on the 
 face of it a romance. How it found its way 
 into Mariana's history is quite clear. He ac- 
 knowledges his obligations to the ancient 
 chronicles ; and had doubtless before him the 
 " Cronica del famoso Cavallero Cid Ruy Diez 
 Campeador," which had been printed as early 
 as the year 1552. He little suspected that all 
 * Mariana lib. x., cap. 4.
 
 34 preface 
 
 the most striking passages in this chronicle 
 were copied from a poem of the twelfth cen- 
 tury, a poem of which the language and versifi- 
 cation had long been obsolete, but which glowed 
 with no common portion of the fire of the Iliad. 
 Yet such was the fact. More than a century 
 and a half after the death of Mariana, this 
 venerable ballad, of which one imperfect copy 
 on parchment, four hundred years old, had 
 been preserved at Bivar, was for the first time 
 printed. Then it was found that every inter- 
 esting circumstance of the story of the heirs of 
 Carrion was derived by the eloquent Jesuit from 
 a song of which he had never heard, and which 
 was composed by a minstrel whose very name 
 had long been forgotten.* 
 
 Such, or nearly such, appears to have been 
 the process by which the lost ballad poetry of 
 Rome was transformed into history. To reverse 
 
 * See the account which Sanchez gives of the Bivar 
 manuscript in the first volume of the Coleccion de 
 Poesias Castellanas anteHores al Siglo XV. Part of the 
 story of the lords of Carrion, in the poem of the Cid, 
 has been translated by Mr. Frere in a manner above all 
 praise.
 
 preface 35 
 
 that process, to transform some portions of 
 early Roman history back into the poetry out 
 of which they are made, is the object of this 
 work. 
 
 In the following poems the author speaks, 
 not in his own person, but in the persons of 
 ancient minstrels who know" only what a Roman 
 citizen, born three or four hundred years before 
 the Christian era, may be supposed to have 
 known, and who are in no wise above the pas- 
 sions and prejudices of their age and nation. 
 To these imaginary- poets must be ascribed some 
 blunders which are so obvious that it is un- 
 necessary to point them out. The real blunder 
 would have been to represent these old poets as 
 deeply versed in general history", and studious 
 of chronological accuracy. To them must also 
 be attributed the illiberal sneers at the Greeks, 
 the furious party spirit, the contempt for the 
 arts of peace, the love of war for its own sake, 
 the ungenerous exultation over the vanquished, 
 which the reader will sometimes observe. To 
 portray a Roman of the age of Camillus or 
 Curius as superior to national antipathies, as
 
 36 preface 
 
 mourning over the devastation and slaughter 
 by which empire and triumphs were to be won, 
 as looking down on human suffering with the 
 sympathy of Howard, or as treating conquered 
 enemies with the delicacy of the Black Prince, 
 would be to violate all dramatic propriety. 
 The old Romans had some great virtues, forti- 
 tude, temperance, veracity, spirit to resist op- 
 pression, respect for legitimate authority, fidel- 
 ity in the observing of contracts, disinterested- 
 ness, ardent patriotism ; but Christian charity 
 and chivalrous generosity were alike unknown 
 to them. 
 
 It would have been obviously improper to 
 mimic the manner of any particular age or 
 courttry. Something has been borrowed how- 
 ever, from our own old ballads, and more from 
 Sir Walter Scott, the great restorer of our bal- 
 lad poetry. To the Iliad still greater obliga- 
 tions are due ; and those obligations have been 
 contracted with the less hesitation, because 
 there is reason to believe that some of the old 
 Latin minstrels had recourse to that inexhaust- 
 ible store of poetical images.
 
 Ipreface 
 
 37 
 
 It would have been easy to swell this little 
 volume to a very considerable bulk, by append- 
 ing notes filled with quotations, but to a learned 
 reader such notes are not necessary ; for an un- 
 learned reader they would have little interest ; 
 and the judgment passed both by the learned 
 and by the unlearned on a work of the imagi- 
 nation will always depend much more on the 
 general character and spirit of such a work than 
 on minute details.
 
 HORATIUS.
 
 HORATIUS. 
 
 nPHERB can be little doubt that among those 
 ■■■ parts of early Roman history which had 
 a poetical origin was the legend of Horatius 
 Codes. We have several versions of the story, 
 and these versions differ from each other in 
 points of no small importance. Polybius, there 
 is reason to believe, heard the tale recited over 
 the remains of some consul or praetor descend- 
 ed from the old Horatian patricians ; for he in- 
 troduces it as a specimen of the narratives with 
 w^hich the Romans were in the habit of embel- 
 lishing their funeral oratory. It is remarkable 
 that, according to him, Horatius defended the 
 bridge alone, and perished in the waters. Ac^ 
 cording to the chronicles which Livy and
 
 42 Xas0 of ancient IRome 
 
 Dionysius followed, Horatius had two com- 
 panions, swam safe to shore, and was loaded 
 with honors and rewards. 
 
 These discrepancies are easily explained. 
 Our own literature, indeed, will furnish an 
 exact parallel to what may have taken place 
 at Rome. It is highly probable that the 
 memory of the war of Porsena was preserved 
 by compositions much resembling the two bal- 
 lads which stand first in the Relics of Ancient 
 English Poetry. In both those ballads the 
 English, commanded by the Percy, fight with 
 the Scots, commanded by the Douglas. In one 
 of the ballads the Douglas is killed by a name- 
 less English archer, and the Percy by a Scottish 
 spearman ; in the other, the Percy slays the 
 Douglas in single combat, and is himself made 
 prisoner. In the former. Sir Hugh Mont- 
 gomery is shot through the heart by a North- 
 umbrian bowman ; in the latter he is taken, 
 and exchanged for the Percy. Yet both the 
 ballads relate to the same event, and that an 
 event which probably took place within the 
 memory of persons who were alive when both
 
 1boratiu5 43 
 
 the ballads were made. One of the minstrels 
 
 says : — 
 
 " Old men that knowen the grounde well yenoughe 
 Call it the battell of Otterburn : 
 At Otterburn began this spurne 
 Upon a monnyn day. 
 Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean : 
 The Perse never went away." 
 
 The other poet sums up the event in the 
 
 following lines : — 
 
 ' ' Thys fraye bygan at Otterbome 
 Bytwene the nyghte and the day : 
 Ther the Dowglas lost hys lyfe, 
 And the Percy was lede away." 
 
 It is by no means unlikely that there were 
 two old Roman lays about the defence of the 
 bridge ; and that, while the story which Ivivy 
 has transmitted to us was preferred by the 
 multitude, the other, which ascribed the whole 
 glory to Horatius alone, may have been the 
 favorite with the Horatian house. 
 
 The following ballad is supposed to have 
 been made about a hundred and twenty years 
 after the war which it celebrates, and just 
 before the taking of Rome by the Gauls. The 
 author seems to have been an honest citizen,
 
 44 Xags of Hnctcnt IRome 
 
 proud of the military glory of his country, sick 
 of the disputes of factions, and much given to 
 pining after good old times which had never 
 really existed. The allusion, however, to the 
 partial manner in which the public lands were 
 allotted could proceed only from a plebeian ; 
 and the allusion to the fraudulent sale of spoils 
 marks the date of the poem, and shows that 
 the poet shared in the general discontent with 
 which the proceedings of Camillus, after the 
 taking of Veii, were regarded. 
 
 The penultimate syllable of the name Porsena 
 has been shortened in spite of the authorit}' of 
 Niebuhr, who pronounces, without assigning 
 any ground for his opinion, that Martial was 
 guilty of a decided blunder in the line, — 
 
 " Hanc spectare manum Porsena non potuit." 
 
 It is not easy to understand how any modem 
 scholar, whatever his attainments may be, — and 
 those of Niebuhr were undoubtedly immense, — 
 can venture to pronounce that Martial did not 
 know the quantity of a word which he must 
 have uttered and heard uttered a hundred times
 
 Iborattus 45 
 
 before he left school. Niebuhr seems also to 
 have forgotten that Martial has fellow-culprits 
 to keep him in countenance. Horace has com- 
 mitted the same decided blunder ; for he gives 
 us, as a pure iambic line, — 
 
 " Minacis aut Etrusca Porsenae manus." 
 
 Silius Italicus has repeatedly offended in the 
 same way, as when he says, — 
 
 " Cernitur effugiens ardentem Porsena dextram : " 
 
 and again, — 
 
 " Clusinum vulgus, cum, Porsena magne, jubebas." 
 
 A modern writer may be content to err in such 
 company. 
 
 Niebuhr's supposition that each of the three 
 defenders of the bridge was the representative 
 of one of the three patrician tribes is both in- 
 genious and probable, and has been adopted in 
 the following poem.
 
 HORATIUS. 
 
 A IvAY MADi^ ABOUT THE YKAR OI^ THE CITY 
 CCCI.X. 
 
 LARS PORSBNA of Clusium 
 By the Nine Gods he swore 
 That the great house of Tarquin 
 Should sufier wrong no more. 
 By the Nine Gods he swore it, 
 
 And named a trysting day, 
 And bade his messengers ride forth, 
 East and west and south and north, 
 To summon his array.
 
 48 Xags of ancient IRome 
 
 II. 
 
 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 his march for Rome. 
 
 m. 
 
 The horsemen and the footmen 
 
 . Are pouring in amain, 
 
 From many a stately market-place ; 
 
 From many a fruitful plain ; 
 From many a lonely hamlet, 
 
 Which, hid by beech and pine. 
 Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest 
 
 Of purple Apennine ; 
 
 IV. 
 
 From lordly Volaterrae, 
 
 Where scowls the far-famed hold 
 Piled by the hands of giants 
 
 For godlike kings of old ; 
 From seagirt Populonia, 
 
 Whose sentinels descry-
 
 Iboratfue 49 
 
 Sardinia's snowy mountain tops 
 Fringing the southern sky ; 
 
 From the proud mart of Pisae, 
 
 Queen of the western waves. 
 "Where ride Massilia's triremes 
 
 Heavy with fair-haired slaves ; 
 From where sweet Clanis wanders 
 
 Through corn and vines and flowers ; 
 From where Cortona lifts to heaven 
 
 Her diadem of towers. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tall are the oaks whose acorns 
 
 Drop in dark Auser's rill; 
 Fat are the stags that champ the boughs 
 
 Of the Ciminian hill ; 
 Beyond all streams Clitumnus 
 
 Is to the herdsman dear ; 
 Best of all pools the fowler loves 
 
 The great Volsinian mere. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But now no stroke of woodman 
 Is heard by Auser's rill ;
 
 50 Xa\2S ot Bncfent IRomc 
 
 No hunter tracks the stag's green path 
 
 Up the Ciminian hill ; 
 Unwatched along Clitumnus 
 
 Grazes the milk-white steer ; 
 Unharmed the water fowl may dip 
 
 In the Volsinian mere. 
 
 VIII, 
 
 The harvests of Arretium, 
 
 This year, old men shall reap ; 
 This year, young boys in Umbro 
 
 Shall plunge the struggling sheep ; 
 And in the vats of Luna, 
 
 This year, the must shall foam 
 Round the white feet of laughing girls 
 
 Whose sires have marched to Rome. 
 
 There be thirty chosen prophets, 
 
 The wisest of the land. 
 Who always by Lars Porsena 
 
 Both morn and evening stand : 
 Evening and mom the Thirty 
 
 Have turned the verses o'er. 
 Traced from the right on linen white 
 
 By mighty seers of yore.
 
 52 Xasa ot Bncient IRome 
 
 And with one voice the Thirty 
 
 Have their glad answer given : 
 " Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena ; 
 
 Go forth, beloved of Heaven ; 
 Go, and return in glory 
 
 To Clusium's royal dome ; 
 And hang round Nurscia's altars 
 
 The golden shields of Rome." 
 
 XI. 
 
 And now hath every city 
 
 Sent up her tale of men ; 
 The foot are fourscore thousand, 
 
 The horse are thousands ten. 
 Before the gates of Sutrium 
 
 Is met the great array. 
 A proud man was Lars Porsena 
 
 Upon the trysting day. 
 
 For all the Etruscan armies 
 Were ranged beneath his eye. 
 
 And many a banished Roman, 
 And many a stout ally ; 
 
 And with a mighty following 
 To join the muster came
 
 1boratiu6 53 
 
 The Tusculan Mamilius, 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But by the yellow Tiber 
 
 Was tumult and affright : 
 From all the spacious champaign 
 
 To Rome men took their flight. 
 A mile around the city, 
 
 The throng stopped up the ways ; 
 A fearful sight it was to see 
 
 Through two long nights and days. 
 
 For aged folks on crutches, 
 
 And women great with child. 
 And mothers sobbing over babes 
 
 That clung to them and smiled. 
 And sick men borne in litters 
 
 High on the necks of slaves, 
 And troops of sun-burned husbandmen 
 
 With reaping-hooks and staves 
 
 XV. 
 
 And droves of mules and asses 
 Laden with skins of wine,
 
 54 Xai25 ot Bncient IRomc 
 
 And endless flocks of goats and sheep, 
 
 And endless herds of kine, 
 And endless trains of wagons 
 
 That creaked beneath the weight 
 Of corn-sacks and of household goods, 
 
 Choked every roaring gate. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 
 
 Could the wan burghers spy 
 The line of blazing villages 
 
 Red in the midnight sky. 
 
 The Fathers of the City, 
 They sat all night and day, 
 For every hour some horseman came 
 
 With tidings of dismay. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To eastward and to westw^ard 
 Have spread the Tuscan bands ;
 
 1borathi5 55 
 
 Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecot 
 In Crustumerium stands. 
 
 Verbenna down to Ostia 
 Hath, wasted all the plain ; 
 
 Astur hath stormed Janiculum, 
 And the stout guards are slain. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 I wis, in all the Senate, 
 
 There was no heart so bold. 
 But sore it ached, and fast it beat, 
 
 When that ill news was told. 
 Forthwith up rose the Consul, 
 
 Up rose the Fathers all ; 
 In haste they girded up their gowns, 
 
 And hied them to the wall. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 They held a council standing 
 
 Before the River-Gate ; 
 Short time was there, ye well may guess, 
 
 For musing or debate. 
 Out spake the Consul roundly : 
 
 "The bridge must straight go down ; 
 For, since Janiculum is lost, 
 
 Nought else can save the town."
 
 56 3La\?6 of Bncient IRome 
 
 Just then a scout came flying, 
 
 All wild with haste and fear : 
 ** To arms ! to arms ! Sir Consul : 
 
 Ivars Porsena is here." 
 On the low hills to westward 
 
 The Consul fixed his eye, 
 And saw the swarthy storm of dust 
 
 Rise fast along the sky. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And nearer fast and nearer 
 
 Doth the red whirlwind come ; 
 And louder still and still more loud, 
 From underneath that rolling cloud, 
 Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, 
 
 The trampling and the hum. 
 And plainly and more plainly 
 
 Now through the gloom appears, 
 Far to left and far to right. 
 In broken gleams of dark-blue light, 
 The long array of helmets bright, 
 
 The long array of spears. 
 
 And plainly and more plainly, 
 Above that glimmering line,
 
 Iboratius 57 
 
 Now might ye see the banners 
 
 Of twelve fair cities shine ; 
 But the banner of proud Clusium 
 
 Was highest of them all, 
 The terror of the Umbrian, 
 
 The terror of the Gavd. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And plainly and more plainly 
 
 Now might the burghers know, 
 By port and vest, by horse and crest, 
 
 Bach warlike Lucumo. 
 There Cilnius of Arretium 
 
 On his fleet roan was seen ; 
 And Astur of the fourfold shield. 
 Girt with the brand none else may wield, 
 Tolumnius with the belt of gold. 
 And dark Verbenna from the hold 
 
 By reedy Thrasymene. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Fast by the royal standard, 
 
 O'erlooking all the war, 
 Lars Porsena of Clusium 
 
 Sat in his ivory car. 
 By the right wheel rode Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name ;
 
 sS Xa^s of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 And by the left false vSextus, 
 
 That wrought the deed of shame. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But when the face of Sextus 
 
 Was seen among the foes, 
 A yell that rent the firmament 
 
 From all the town arose. 
 On the house-tops was no woman 
 
 But spat towards him and hissed, 
 No child but screamed out curses, 
 
 And shook its little fist. 
 
 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 out spake brave Horatius, 
 
 The Captain of the Gate : 
 ' To every man upon this earth 
 Death cometh soon or late,
 
 1boratiu6 
 
 59 
 
 And how can man die better 
 Than facing fearful odds, 
 
 For the ashes of his fathers, 
 And the temples of his Gods, 
 
 " And for the tender mother 
 
 Who dandled him to rest, 
 And for the wife who nurses 
 
 His baby at her breast. 
 And for the holy maidens 
 
 Who feed the eternal flame. 
 To save them from false Sextus 
 
 That wrougrht the deed of shame ?
 
 6o 
 
 JB)a^6 of Bnclent tf^ome 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Hew down the bridge, vSir 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 ? " 
 
 \^\ 
 
 M^ 
 
 
 ^nS> 
 
 
 Sh^vi 
 
 fVjup\^ 
 
 wl 
 
 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."
 
 1boratiu6 6i 
 
 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 lands were fairly portioned ; 
 
 Then spoils were fairly sold ; 
 The Romans were like brothers 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Now Roman is to Roman 
 More hateful than a foe, 
 
 And the Tribunes beard the high. 
 And the Fathers grind the low.
 
 62 
 
 Xai20 of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 As we wax hot in faction, 
 
 In battle we wax cold ; 
 Wherefore men fight not as they fought 
 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Now while the Three were tightening 
 Their harness on their backs, 
 
 The Consul was the foremost man 
 To take in hand an axe ; 
 
 And Fathers mixed with Commons, 
 Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
 
 Iboratius 
 
 63 
 
 And smote upon the planks above, 
 And loosed the props below. 
 
 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, 
 
 "SVhere stood the dauntless Three,
 
 64 
 
 Xa\20 ot Bncient IRomc 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 The Three stood calm -5 
 and silent, ~ 
 
 And looked upon the 
 foes, 
 
 And a great shout of laughter 
 From all the vanguard rose : 
 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 ;
 
 "iboratfus 65 
 
 Aunus from green Tifernum, 
 
 Lord of the Hill of Vines ; 
 And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 
 
 Sicken in Ilva's mines ; 
 And Picus, long to Clusium 
 
 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. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 stout Lartius hurled down Aunus 
 
 Into the stream beneath : 
 Henninius 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. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Then Ocnus of Falerii 
 
 Rushed on the Roman Three ; 
 And Lausulus of Urgo, 
 
 The Rover of the sea ;
 
 66 Xai^s ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 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. 
 
 XI,. 
 
 Herminius smote down Aruns : 
 
 Lartius laid Ocnus low : 
 Right to the heart of Lausulus 
 
 Horatius sent a blow. 
 " Ivie 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. ' ' 
 
 XI,I. 
 
 But now no sound of laughter 
 
 Was heard among the foes. 
 A wild and wrathful clamor 
 
 From all the vanguard rose. 
 Six spears' length from the entrance 
 
 Halted that deep array. 
 And for a space no man came forth 
 
 To win the narrow wav.
 
 fjoratfus 67 
 
 But hark ! the cr>^ 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. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 He smiled on those bold Romans 
 
 A smile serene and high ; 
 He eyed the flinching Tuscans, 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 XI.IV. 
 
 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 :
 
 68 XaK6 of Bncient IRomc 
 
 The Tuscans raised a joyful cry- 
 To see the red blood flow. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 He reeled, and on Herminius 
 
 He leaned one breathing-space ; 
 Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, 
 
 Sprang right at Astur's face. 
 Through teeth, and skull, and helmet 
 
 So fierce a thrust he sped. 
 The good sword stood a hand-breadth out 
 
 Behind the Tuscan's head. 
 
 XI.VI. 
 
 And the great Lord of Luna 
 
 Fell at that deadly stroke 
 As falls on Mount Alvernus 
 
 A thunder-smitten oak. 
 Far o'er the crashing forest 
 
 The giant arms lie spread ; 
 And the pale augurs, nmttering low, 
 
 Gaze on the blasted head. 
 
 XI. VII. 
 
 On Astur's throat Horatius 
 Right firmly pressed his heel. 
 
 And thrice and four times tugged amain 
 Bre he wrenched out the steel.
 
 1boratiu9 69 
 
 "And see," he cried, " the welcome, 
 Fair guests, that waits you here ! 
 
 \\Tiat noble Lucumo comes next 
 To taste our Roman cheer? " 
 
 But at this haughty challenge 
 
 A sullen murmur ran, 
 Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread. 
 
 Along that glittering van. 
 There lacked not men of prowess, 
 
 Nor men of lordly race ; 
 For all Etruria's noblest 
 
 Were round the fatal place. 
 
 XIvIX. 
 
 But all Etruria's noblest 
 
 Felt their hearts sink to see 
 On the earth the bloody corpses, 
 
 In the path the dauntless Three : 
 And, from the ghastly entrance 
 
 Where those bold Romans stood, 
 All shrank, like boys who unaware. 
 Ranging the woods to start a hare. 
 Come to the mouth of the dark lair 
 Where, growling low, a fierce old bear 
 
 Ivies amidst bones and blood,
 
 70 
 
 Xa)26 of ancient IRome 
 
 I.. 
 
 Was none who would be foremost 
 
 To lead such dire attack : 
 But those behind cried " Forward ! 
 
 And those before cried " Back ! " 
 And backward now and forward 
 
 Wavers the deep array ; 
 And on the tossing sea of steel, 
 To and fro the standards reel ; 
 And the victorious trumpet-peal 
 
 Dies fitfully away. 
 
 W. 
 
 Yet one man for one moment 
 Stood out before the crowd ; 
 
 Well known was he to all the Three, 
 And they gave him greeting loud ;
 
 f)oratiu5 71 
 
 "Now welcome, welcome Sextus ! 
 
 Now welcome to thy home ! 
 ^\'^ly dost thou stay, and tmn away ? 
 
 Here lies the road to Rome." 
 
 1.11. 
 
 Thrice looked he at the city ; 
 
 Thrice looked he at the dead ; 
 And thrice came on in fury, 
 
 And thrice turned back in dread : 
 And, white with fear and hatred, 
 
 Scowled at the narrow way 
 Where, wallowing in a pool of blood. 
 
 The bravest Tuscans lay. 
 
 1,111. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 1,1V. 
 
 Back darted Spurius Lartius ; 
 Herminius darted back :
 
 Xa^5 ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 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 Iloratius stand alone, 
 
 They would have crossed once more. 
 
 i,v. 
 
 But with a crash like thunder 
 
 Fell every loosened beam, 
 And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 
 
 Lay right athwart the stream : 
 And a long shout of triumph 
 
 Rose from the walls of Rome, 
 As to the highest turret-tops 
 
 Was splashed the yellow foam. 
 
 I,VI. 
 
 And, like a horse unbroken 
 
 When first he feels the rein. 
 The furious river struggled hard, 
 
 And tossed his tawny mane, 
 And burst the curb, and bounded, 
 
 Rejoicing to be free, 
 And whirling down, in fierce career, 
 Battlement, and plank, and pier, 
 
 Rushed headlong to the sea.
 
 1boratfu6 73 
 
 Alone stood brave Horatius, 
 
 But constant still in mind ; 
 Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 
 
 And the broad flood behind. 
 ' ' Down with him ! ' ' cried false Sextus, 
 
 With a smile on his pale face. 
 " Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 
 
 " Now yield thee to our grace." 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Round turned he, as not deigning 
 
 Those craven ranks to see ; 
 Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, 
 
 To Sextus nought spake he ; 
 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 : 
 
 " O, 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.
 
 
 /'l.i%C3 
 
 :~^fe-
 
 l)oratfus 75 
 
 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 armor, 
 
 And spent with changing blows : 
 And oft they thought him sinking, 
 
 But still again he rose. 
 
 i,xn. 
 
 Never, I ween, did swimmer. 
 
 In such an e\41 case. 
 Struggle through such a raging flood 
 
 Safe to the landing place : 
 But his limbs were borne up bravely 
 
 By the brave heart within,
 
 76 Xag6 of Bncicnt IRomc 
 
 And our good father Tiber 
 Bore bravely up his chin.* 
 
 LXIII. 
 " 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." 
 
 I.XIV. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Our ladye bare upp her chinne." 
 
 Ballad of Childe Waters. 
 
 • < Never heavier man and horse 
 Stemmed a midnight torrent's force ; 
 ****** 
 Yet, through good heart and our Lady's grace, 
 At length he gained the landing place." 
 
 Lay of the Last Minstrel, I.
 
 1borattu0 
 
 IvXV. 
 
 They gave him of the corn-land, 
 
 That was of pubhc right, 
 As much as two strong oxen 
 
 Could plough 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. 
 
 I^XVI. 
 
 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. 
 
 I.XVII. 
 
 And still his name sounds stirring 
 
 Unto the men of Rome, 
 As the trumpet-blast that cries to them 
 
 To charge the Volscian home ; 
 And wives still pray to Juno 
 
 For bovs with hearts as bold
 
 78 Xai2S of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 As his who kept the bridge so well 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
 I.XVIII. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 I.XIX. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 I.XX. 
 
 When the goodman mends his armor, 
 And trims his helmet's plume ;
 
 Iboratius 
 
 79 
 
 When the goodwife's shuttle merrily 
 Goes flashing though the loom ; 
 With weeping and with 
 
 laughter ^ 
 
 // Still is the story 
 told, 
 How well Horati 
 
 kept the bridge /lU/j 
 .^ In the brave days of
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 THE following poem is supposed to have 
 beeti produced about ninety years after 
 the lay of Horatius. Some persons mentioned 
 in the lay of Horatius make their appearance 
 again, and some appellations and epithets used 
 in the lay of Horatius are purposely repeated : 
 for, in an age of ballad poetry, it scarcely ever 
 fails to happen that certain phrases come to be 
 appropriated to certain men and things, and are 
 regularly applied to those men and things by 
 every minstrel. Thus we find, both in the 
 Homeric poems and in Hesiod, (iiri 'HpaKXjjEirj, 
 TtEpiuXvToi 'A/LiquyvTJeiS, didKTopo<i ""Apyei- 
 cpovrrfi, eTtraTtvXoi Qrjfj?], 'EA.Evr/'s evek tjvho- 
 l-ioio. Thus, too, in our own national songs, 
 Douglas is almost always the doughty Douglas ;
 
 84 Xa^9 ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 England is merry England ; all the gold is red ; 
 and all the ladies are gay. 
 
 The principal distinction between the lay of 
 Horatius and the lay of the Lake Regillus is 
 that the former is meant to be purely Roman, 
 while the latter, though national in its spirit, has 
 a slight tincture of Greek learning and of Greek 
 superstition. The story of the Tarquins, as it 
 has come down to us, appears to have been 
 compiled from the works of several popular 
 poets ; and one, at least, of those poets appears 
 to have visited the Greek colonies in Italy, if 
 not Greece itself, and to have had some ac- 
 quaintance with the works of Homer and Her- 
 odotus. Many of the most striking adventures 
 of the house of Tarquin, before Lucretia makes 
 her appearance, have a Greek character. The 
 Tarquins themselves are represented as Cor- 
 inthian nobles of the great house of the Bacchi- 
 adae, driven from their country by the tyranny 
 of that Cypselus, the tale of whose strange 
 escape Herodotus has related with incompa- 
 rable simplicity and liveliness."^ Ivivy and 
 
 * Herodotus, v., 92. Livy, i., 34. Dionysius, iii., 46.
 
 Zbc :©attle of tbe aLa^^e IRcgIIIus 85 
 
 Dionysius tell us that, when Tarquin the Proud 
 was asked what was the best mode of governing 
 a conquered city, he replied only by beating 
 down with his staff all the tallest poppies in his 
 garden.* This is exactly what Herodotus, in 
 the passage to which reference has already been 
 
 made, relates of the counsel given to Periander, 
 the son of Cypselus, The stratagem by which 
 the town of Gabii is brought under the power 
 of the Tarquins is, again, obviously copied from 
 Herodotus, t The embassy of the young Tar- 
 
 * Ltvy, i.,54. 
 t Herodotus, 
 
 Dionysius, iv., 56. 
 i., 154. Livy, X., 53.
 
 86 
 
 Xa^0 ot Bncfcnt TRome 
 
 quins to the oracle at Delphi is just such a story 
 as would be told by a poet whose head was full 
 of the Greek mythology ; and the ambiguous 
 answer returned by Apollo is in the exact style 
 of the prophecies which, according to Herod- 
 otus, lured Croesus to destruction. Then the 
 
 character of the narrative changes. From the 
 first mention of Lucretia to the retreat of Por- 
 sena nothing seems to be borrowed from foreign 
 sources. The villainy of Sextus, the suicide of 
 his \'ictim, the revolution, the death of the sons 
 of Brutus, the defence of the bridge, Mucius
 
 trbe ^Battle of tbe Xahe IRegfUus S7 
 
 burning his hand,* Cloelia swimming through 
 Tiber, seem to be all strictly Roman, But when 
 we have done with the Tuscan war, and enter 
 upon the war with the Latin es, we are again 
 struck by the Greek air of the stor}^ The bat- 
 tle of the Lake Regillus is in all respects a 
 
 Homeric battle, except that the combatants ride 
 astride on their horses, instead of driving chari- 
 ots. The mass of fighting men is hardly men- 
 tioned. The leaders single each other out, and 
 
 * M. de Pouilly attempted, a hundred and twenty years 
 ago, to prove that the stor>' of Mucius was of Greek 
 origin ; but he was signally confuted by the Abbe Sallier. 
 Seethe Memoires de V Academie des Inscriptions, vi., 27, 
 66,
 
 88 
 
 Xai^s of Bncient IRome 
 
 engage hand to hand. The great object of the 
 warriors on both sides is, as in the Iliad, to ob- 
 tain possession of the spoils and bodies of the 
 slain ; and several circumstances are related 
 which forcibly remind us of the great slaughter 
 round the corpses of Sarpedou and Patroclus. 
 
 But there is one circumstance which deserves 
 especial notice. Both the war of Troy and the 
 war of Regillus were caused by the licentious 
 passions of young princes, who were therefore 
 peculiarly bound not to be sparing of their own 
 persons in the day of battle. Now the conduct 
 of Sextus at Regillus, as described by Livy, so
 
 Zbe JBattle of tbe Xa^c IRegfllus 89 
 
 exactly resembles that of Paris, as described at 
 the beginning of the third book of the Iliad, 
 that it is difficult to believe the resemblance 
 accidental. Paris appears before the Trojan 
 ranks, defying the bravest Greek to encounter 
 him : — 
 
 Tpojcrlv ixev npofj.a.\L^ev 'AXe'^ai'Spo? deoetSfj?, 
 . . . W-pyeiuiv TrpoKaki^ero ndvTa<; apia-Tov<;, 
 oLvri^Lov iJLaxecraa9at. ev alvjj StjIot^ti. 
 
 Livy introduces Sextus in a similar manner: 
 " Ferocem juvenem Tarquinium, ostentantem 
 se in prima exsulum acie." Menelaus rashes 
 to meet Paris. A Roman noble, eager for 
 vengeance, spurs his horse towards Sextus. 
 Both the guilty princes are instantly terror- 
 stricken : — 
 
 Tbi* 5' tbs o5v ei'orjaev 'AXe'^avSpos 0eoet6r)s 
 
 ef 7rpo/x(x;(ot<ri <f)avevTa, KarenXriyr) (f)i\ov riTop' 
 
 ai|/ S' eTdpuiV et? e9vo<; exd^eTO Krjp' aXeeiPOiV. 
 
 "Tarquinius," says I^ivy, "retro in agmen 
 suoruni infenso cessit hosti." If this be a 
 fortuitous coincidence, it is one of the most 
 extraordinary in literature. 
 
 In the following poem, therefore, images and
 
 Qo Xav6 of Bncient IRome 
 
 incidents have been borrowed, not merely with- 
 out scruple, but on principle, from the incom- 
 parable battle-pieces of Homer. 
 
 The popular belief at Rome, from an early 
 period, seems to have been that the event of 
 the great day of Regillus was decided by super- 
 natural agency. Castor and Pollux, it was said, 
 had fought, armed and mounted, at the head of 
 the legions of the commonwealth, and had 
 afterwards carried the news of the victory with 
 incredible speed to the city. The well in the 
 Forum at which they had alighted was pointed 
 out. Near the well rose their ancient temple. 
 A great festival was kept to their honor on the 
 Ides of Quintilis, supposed to be the anniversary- 
 of the battle; and on that day sumptuous sacri- 
 fices were offered to them at the public charge. 
 One spot on the margin of Lake Regillus was 
 regarded during many ages with superstitious 
 awe. A mark, resembling in shape a horse's 
 hoof, was discernible in the volcanic rock ; and 
 this mark was believed to have been made by 
 one of the celestial chargers. 
 
 How the legend originated cannot now be
 
 ^be JBattle of tbe Xake IReaillus 91 
 
 ascertained : but we may easily imagine several 
 ways in which it might have originated ; nor is 
 it at all necessary to suppose, with Julius Fron- 
 tinus, that two young men were dressed up by 
 the dictator to personate the sons of Leda. It 
 is probable that Livy is correct when he says 
 that the Roman general, in the hour of peril, 
 vowed a temple to Castor. If so, nothing could 
 be more natural than that the multitude should 
 ascribe the victory to the favor of the Twin 
 Gods. When such was the prevailing senti- 
 ment, any man who chose to declare that, in 
 the midst of the confusion and slaughter, he 
 had seen two godlike forms on white horses 
 scattering the Ivatines, would find ready cre- 
 dence. We know, indeed, that, in modem 
 times, a very similar story actually found cre- 
 dence among a people much more civilized than 
 the Romans of the fifth century before Christ. 
 A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years 
 after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of 
 printing presses, libraries, universities, scholars, 
 logicians, jurists, and statesmen, had the face 
 to assert that, in one engagement against the
 
 92 Xai20 of Bncfcnt IRome 
 
 Indians, Saint James had appeared on a gray 
 horse at the head of the Castilian adventurers. 
 Many of those adventurers were living when 
 this lie was printed. One of them, honest 
 Bernal Diaz, wrote an account of the expedi- 
 tion. He had the evidence of his own senses 
 against the legend ; but he seems to have dis- 
 trusted even the evidence of his own senses. 
 He says that he was in the battle, and that he 
 saw a gray horse with a man on his back, but 
 that the man was, to his thinking, Francesco 
 de Morla, and not the ever-blessed apostle Saint 
 James. " Nevertheless," Bernal adds, "it may 
 be that the person on the gray horse was the 
 glorious apostle Saint James, and that I, sinner 
 that I am, was unworthy to see him." The 
 Romans of the age of Cincinnatus were prob- 
 ably quite as credulous as the Spanish subjects 
 of Charles the Fifth. It is therefore conceivable 
 that the appearance of Castor and Pollux may 
 have become an article of faith before the 
 generation which had fought at Regillus had 
 passed away. Nor could any thing be more 
 natural than that the poets of the next age
 
 Cbe JBattlc ot tbc Xake IRegillus 93 
 
 should embellish this story, and make the 
 celestial horsemen bear the tidings of victory 
 to Rome. 
 
 Many years after the temple of the Twin 
 Gods had been built in the Forum, an im- 
 portant addition was made to the ceremonial 
 by which the state annually testified its grati- 
 tude for their protection. Ouintus Fabius and 
 Publius Decius were elected censors at a momen- 
 tous crisis. It had become absolutely neces- 
 sary that the classification of the citizens 
 should be revised. On that classification de- 
 pended the distribution of political power. 
 Party-spirit ran high ; and the republic seemed 
 to be in danger of falling under the dominion 
 either of a narrow oligarchy or of an ignorant 
 and headstrong rabble. Under such circum- 
 stances, the most illustrious patrician and the 
 most illustrious plebeian of the age were in- 
 trusted with the office of arbitrating between 
 the angry factions ; and they performed their 
 arduous task to the satisfaction of all honest 
 and reasonable men. 
 
 One of their reforms was a remodelling of the
 
 94 Xa^0 of Bncient IRome 
 
 equestrian order ; and, having effected this re- 
 form, they determined to give to their work a 
 sanction derived from religion. In the chival- 
 rous societies of modern times, societies which 
 have much more than may at first sight appear 
 in common with the equestrian order of Rome, 
 it has been usual to invoke the special protec- 
 tion of some saint, and to observ^e his day with 
 peculiar solemnity. Thus the Companions of 
 the Garter wear the image of Saint George de- 
 pending from their collars, and meet, on great 
 occasions, in Saint George's Chapel. Thus, 
 when Louis the Fourteenth instituted a new 
 order of chivalry for the rewarding of military' 
 merit, he commended it to the favor of his own 
 glorified ancestor and patron, and decreed that 
 all the members of the fraternity should meet 
 at the royal palace on the feast of Saint Louis, 
 should attend the king to chapel, should hear 
 mass, and should subsequently hold their great 
 annual assembly. There is a considerable re- 
 semblance between this rule of the order of 
 Saint Louis and the rule which Fabius and 
 Decius made respecting the Roman knights.
 
 ^be :©attlc of tbc Xahc TRcgtllus 95 
 
 It was ordained that a grand muster and in- 
 spection of the equestrian body should be part 
 of the ceremonial performed, on the anniversary 
 of the battle of Regillus, in honor of Castor and 
 Pollux, the two equestrian gods. All the 
 knights, clad in purple and crowned with olive, 
 were to meet at a temple of Mars in the sub- 
 urbs. Thence they were to ride in state to the 
 Forum, where the temple of the Twins stood. 
 This pageant was, during several centuries, 
 considered as one of the most splendid sights of 
 Rome. In the time of Dionysius the cavalcade 
 sometimes consisted of five thousand horsemen, 
 all persons of fair repute and easy fortune.'^ 
 
 There can be no doubt that the censors who 
 instituted this august ceremony acted in con- 
 cert with the pontiffs to whom, by the constitu- 
 tion of Rome, the superintendence of the public 
 worship belonged ; and it is probable that those 
 high religious functionaries were, as usual, for- 
 
 * See Zz'z/jv, ix., 46. Val. Max., ii., 2. AureL, Vict. De 
 Viris lUustribus, 32. Dionysius, vi., 13. Plin., Hist. 
 Nat.,-s.\., 5. See also the singularly ingenious chapter 
 in Niebuhr's posthumous volume, Die Censur des Q. 
 Fabius und P. Decius,
 
 96 Xai^s ot Bnclcnt IRome 
 
 tunate enough to find in their books or tra- 
 ditions some warrant for the innovation. 
 
 The following poem is supposed to have been 
 made for this great occasion. Songs, we know, 
 were chanted at the religious festivals of Rome 
 from an early period ; indeed, from so early a 
 period, that some of the sacred verses were 
 popularly ascribed to Numa, and were utterly 
 unintelligible in the age of Augustus. In the 
 Second Punic War a great feast was held in 
 honor of Juno, and a song was sung in her 
 praise. This song was extant when Livy wrote ; 
 and, though exceedingly rugged and uncouth, 
 seemed to him not wholly destitute of merit.* 
 A song, as we learn from Horace, f was part of 
 the established ritual at the great Secular Jubi- 
 lee. It is therefore likely that the censors and 
 pontiffs, when they had resolved to add a grand 
 procession of knights to the other solemnities 
 annually performed on the Ides of Quintilis, 
 would call in the aid of a poet. Such a poet 
 would naturally take for his subject the battle 
 of Regillus, the appearance of the Twin Gods, 
 * Livy^ xxvii., 37. t Hor., Carmen Seculare.
 
 Zbc :©attlc of tbc XaF?c IReciiHus 97 
 
 and the institution of their festival. He would 
 find abundant materials in the ballads of his 
 predecessors ; and he would make free use of 
 the scanty stock of Greek learning which he 
 had himself acquired. He would probably in- 
 troduce some wnse and holy pontiff enjoining 
 the magnificent ceremonial which, after a long 
 interval, had at length been adopted. If the 
 poem succeeded, many persons w-ould commit 
 it to memory-. Parts of it would be sung to the 
 pipe at banquets. It would be peculiarly inter- 
 esting to the great Posthumian House, which 
 numbered among its many images that of the 
 Dictator Aulus, the hero of Regillus. The 
 orator who, in the following generation, pro- 
 nounced the funeral panegyric over the remains 
 of Lucius Posthumius Megellus, thrice consul, 
 would borrow largely from the lay ; and thus 
 some passages, much disfigured, would probably 
 find their way into the chronicles which were 
 afterwards in the hands of Dionysius and Liivy. 
 Antiquaries difi"er widely as to the situation 
 of the field of battle. The opinion of those who 
 suppose that the armies met near Cornufelle,
 
 98 
 
 Xa^s of Bncient IRome 
 
 between Frascati and the Monte Porzio, is at 
 least plausible, and has been followed in the 
 poem. 
 
 As to the details of the battle, it has not been 
 thought desirable to adhere minutely to the ac- 
 counts which have come down to us. Those 
 accounts, indeed, differ widely from each other, 
 and, in all probability, differ as widely from 
 the ancient poem from which they were origi- 
 nally derived. 
 
 It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imi- 
 tations of the Iliad, which have been purposely 
 introduced.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND 
 
 POLLUX ON THE IDES OF OUINTILIS IN 
 
 THE YEAR OF THE CITY DCCCLL 
 
 HO, trumpets, sound a war-note ! 
 Ho, lictors, clear the way ! 
 The Knights will ride, in all their pride, 
 
 Along the streets to-day. 
 To-day the doors and windows 
 
 Are hung with garlands all. 
 From Castor in the Forum, 
 
 To Mars without the wall. 
 Each Knight is robed in purple, 
 
 With olive each is crowned ; 
 A gallant war-horse under each 
 
 Paws haughtily the ground. 
 While flows the Yellow River, 
 
 While stands the Sacred Hill, 
 The proud Ides of Quintilis 
 
 Shall have such honor still.
 
 Xai20 ot Bncient IRome 
 
 Gay are the Martian Kalends : 
 
 December's Nones are gay : 
 But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides, 
 
 Shall be Rome's whitest day. 
 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 
 
 Tossing in waves of pine, 
 O'er Cirrha's dome, o'er Adria's foam. 
 
 O'er purple Apennine, 
 From where with flutes and dances 
 
 Their ancient mansion rings, 
 In lordly Lacedaemon, 
 
 The city of two kings, 
 To where, by Lake Regillus, 
 
 Under the Porcian height. 
 All in the lands of Tusculum, 
 
 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 : 
 The swine crush the big acorns 
 
 That fall from Corne's oaks.
 
 ^bc JSattle of tbe Xafte IReaillus loi 
 
 upon the turf by the Fair Fount 
 
 The reaper's pottage smokes. 
 The fisher baits his angle ; 
 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 
 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 flight ; 
 And how the Lake Regillus 
 
 Bubbled with crimson foam, 
 What time the Thirty Cities 
 
 Came forth to war with Rome. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, Roman, when thou standest 
 
 Upon that holy ground, 
 Look thou with heed on the dark rock 
 
 That girds the dark lake round,
 
 Xa^6 of IDncicnt TRome 
 
 So shalt thou see a hoof-mark 
 
 Stamped deep into the flint ; 
 It was no hoof of mortal steed 
 
 That made so strange a dint : 
 There to the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 Vow thou thy vow's, and pray- 
 That they, in tempest and in fight, 
 
 Will keep thy head alway. 
 
 V. 
 
 Since last the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 Of mortal eyes were seen, 
 Have years gone by an hundred 
 
 And fourscore and thirteen. 
 That summer a Virginius 
 
 Was Consul first in place ; 
 The second was stout Aulus, 
 
 Of the Posthumian race. 
 The Herald of the Latines 
 
 From Gabii came in state : 
 The Herald of the Latines 
 
 Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate 
 The Herald of the I^atines 
 
 Did in our Forum stand ; 
 And there he did his office, 
 
 A sceptre in his hand. 
 
 'Hear, Senators and people 
 Of the good town of Rome.
 
 [04 
 
 Xass of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 The Thirty Cities charge you 
 To bring the Tarquins home : 
 
 And if ye still be stubborn, 
 To work the Tarquins wrong, 
 
 The Thirty Cities warn you, 
 
 Ivook that your w^alls be strong." 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then spake the Consul Aulus, 
 
 He spake a bitter jest : 
 " Once the jays sent a message 
 
 Unto the eagle's nest : 
 Now yield thou up thine eyrie 
 
 Unto the carrion-kite. 
 Or come forth valiantly, and face 
 
 The jays in deadly fight.
 
 Zbc :fiSattlc of tbc Xafie IRegillus 105 
 
 Forth looked in wrath the eagle ; 
 
 And carrion-kite and jay, 
 As 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 
 
 Are met in high debate. 
 Then spake the elder Consul, 
 
 An ancient man and wise : 
 " Now hearken, Conscript Fathers, 
 
 To that which I advise. 
 In season of great peril 
 
 'T is good that one bear sway ; 
 Then choose we a Dictator, 
 
 Whom all men shall obey. 
 Camerium knows how deeply 
 
 The sword of Aulus bites, 
 And all our city calls him 
 
 The man of seventy fights. 
 Then let hirr be Dictator 
 
 For six months and no more. 
 And have a Master of the Knights, 
 
 And axes twenty-four." 
 
 IX. 
 
 So Aulus was Dictator, 
 
 The man of seventy fights ;
 
 io6 Xai?6 of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 He made ^^Bbutius Elva 
 
 His Master of the Knights. 
 On the third morn thereafter, 
 
 At dawning of the day, 
 Did Aulus and ^butius 
 
 Set forth with their array. 
 Sempronius Atratinus 
 
 Was left in charge at home 
 With boys, and with gray-headed men, 
 
 To keep the walls of Rome. 
 Hard by the Lake Regillus 
 
 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 ; 
 And with their thousand watch-fires 
 
 The midnight sky was red. 
 
 X. 
 
 Up rose the golden morning 
 
 Over the Porcian height, 
 The proud Ides of Ouintilis 
 
 INIarked evermore with white. 
 Not without secret trouble 
 
 Our bravest saw the foes ; 
 For girt by threescore thousand spears, 
 
 The thirtv standards rose.
 
 trbe :©attlc of tbe Xake IResillus 107 
 
 From every warlike city 
 
 That boasts the Latian name, 
 Foredoomed to dogs and vultures, 
 
 That gallant army came : 
 From Setia's purple vineyards. 
 
 From Norba's ancient wall, 
 From the white streets of Tusculum, 
 
 The proudest town of all ; 
 From where the Witch's Fortress 
 
 O'erhangs the dark -blue seas ; 
 From the still glassy lake that sleeps 
 
 Beneath Aricia's trees — 
 Those trees in whose dim shadow 
 
 The ghastly priest doth reign, 
 The priest who slew the slayer, 
 
 And shall himself be slain ; 
 From the drear banks of Ufens, 
 
 Where flights of marsh-fowl play, 
 And buffaloes lie wallowing 
 
 Through the hot summer's day ; 
 From the gigantic watch-towers, 
 
 No work of earthly men, 
 Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook 
 
 The never-ending fen ; 
 From the Ivaurentian jungle. 
 
 The wild hog's reedy home ; 
 From the green steeps whence Anio leaps 
 
 In floods of snow-white foam.
 
 io8 %ax>6 ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 XI. 
 
 Aricia, Cora, Norba, 
 
 Vclitrae, with the might 
 Of Setia and of Tusculum, 
 
 Were marshalled on the right : 
 Their leader was Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name ; 
 Upon his head a helmet 
 
 Of red gold shone like flame: 
 High on a gallant charger 
 
 Of dark-gray hue he rode ; 
 Over his gilded ^armor 
 
 A vest of purple flowed, 
 Woven in the land of sunrise 
 
 By Syria's dark-browed daughters, 
 And by the sails of Carthage brought 
 
 Far o'er the southern waters. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Lavinium and Laurentum 
 
 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 : 
 With restless pace and haggard face 
 
 To his last field he came. 
 Men said he saw strange visions 
 
 Which none beside might see ;
 
 Zhc JSattle of tbe Xahe IRcgillus log 
 
 And that strange sounds were in his ears 
 
 Which none might hear but he. 
 A woman fair and stately, 
 
 But pale as are the dead, 
 Oft through the w^atches of the night 
 
 Sat spinning by his bed. 
 And as she plied the distaff, 
 
 In a sweet voice and low, 
 She sang of great old houses, 
 
 And fights fought long ago. 
 vSo spun she, and so sang she. 
 
 Until the east was gray. 
 Then pointed to her bleeding breast, 
 
 And shrieked, and fled away. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But in the centre thickest 
 
 Were ranged the shields of foes, 
 And from the centre loudest 
 
 The cry of battle rose. 
 There Tibur marched and Pedum 
 
 Beneath proud Tarquin's rule. 
 And Ferentinum of the rock. 
 
 And Gabii of the pool ; 
 There rode the Volscian succors ; 
 
 There, in a dark stern ring. 
 The Roman exiles gathered close 
 
 Around the ancient king.
 
 Xa^s of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 Though white as Mount Soracte, 
 
 When winter nights are long, 
 His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt, 
 
 His heart and hand were strong : 
 Under his hoary eyebrows 
 
 Still flashed forth quenchless rage, 
 And, if the lance shook in his grip, 
 
 'T was more with hate than age. 
 Close at his side was Titus 
 
 On an Apulian steed, 
 Titus, the youngest Tarquin, 
 
 Too good for such a breed. 
 
 Now on each side the leaders 
 
 Gave signal for the charge ; 
 And on each side the footmen 
 
 Strode on with lance and targe ; 
 And on each side the horsemen 
 
 Struck their spurs deep in gore ; 
 And front to front the armies 
 
 Met with a mighty roar : 
 And under that great battle 
 
 The earth with blood was red ; 
 And, like the Pomptine fog at mom. 
 
 The dust hung overhead ; 
 And louder still and louder 
 
 Rose from the darkened field
 
 ^be JSattle ot tbe %akc IRcGillus m 
 
 The braying of the war-horns, 
 The clang of sword and shield, 
 
 The rush of squadrons sweeping 
 Like w^hirlwinds o'er the plain. 
 
 The shouting of the slayers. 
 And screeching of the slain. 
 
 XV. 
 
 False Sextus rode out foremost : 
 
 His look was high and bold ; 
 His corselet was of bison's hide, 
 
 Plated with steel and gold. 
 As glares the famished eagle 
 
 From the Digentian rock 
 On a choice lamb that bounds alone 
 
 Before Bandusia's flock, 
 Herminius glared on Sextus, 
 
 And came with eagle speed, 
 Herminius on black Auster, 
 
 Brave champion on brave steed ; 
 In his right hand the broadsword 
 
 That kept the bridge so well, 
 And on his helm the crown he won 
 
 When proud Fidenae fell. 
 Woe to the maid whose lover 
 
 Shall cross his path to-day ! 
 False Sextus saw, and trembled, 
 
 And turned, and fled away.
 
 Xa^e ot ancient IRomc 
 
 As turns, as flies, the woodman 
 
 In the Calabrian brake, 
 When through the reeds gleams the round eye 
 
 Of that fell speckled snake ; 
 So turned, so fled, false vSextus, 
 
 And hid him in the rear 
 Behind the dark Lavinian ranks, 
 
 Bristling with crest and spear. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But far to north ^^butius, 
 
 The Master of the Knights, 
 Gave Tubero of Norba 
 
 To feed the Porcian kites. 
 Next under those red horse-hoofs 
 
 Flaccus of Setia lay ; 
 Better had he been pruning 
 
 Among his elms that day. 
 Mamilius saw the slaughter, 
 
 And tossed his golden crest, 
 And towards the Master of the Knights 
 
 Through the thick battle pressed, 
 ^butius smote Mamilius 
 
 So fiercely on the shield 
 That the great lord of Tusculum 
 
 Wellnigh rolled on the field. 
 Mamilius smote ^butius 
 
 With a good aim and true,
 
 ^be :JSattlc of tbe XaJie IRcgillus 113 
 
 Just where the neck and shoulder join, 
 
 And pierced him through and through ; 
 And brave ^i^^butius Blva 
 
 Fell swooning to the ground : 
 But a thick wall of bucklers 
 
 Encompassed him around. 
 His clients from the battle 
 
 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, 
 Men say, the earliest word he spake 
 
 Was : " Friends, how goes the fight ? " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But meanwhile in the centre 
 
 Great deeds of arms were wrought ; 
 There Aulus the Dictator 
 
 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. 
 Flat lighted that good broadsw^ord 
 
 Upon proud Tarquin's head. 
 He dropped the lance : he dropped the reins : 
 
 He fell as fall the dead.
 
 114 Xai^s of ancient IRomc 
 
 Down Aulus springs to slay him, 
 
 With eyes like coals of fire ; 
 But faster Titus hath sprung down, 
 
 And hath bestrode his sire. 
 Latian captains, Roman knights, 
 
 Fast down to earth they spring, 
 And hand to hand they fight on foot 
 
 Around the ancient king. 
 First Titus gave tall Caeso 
 
 A death wound in the face ; 
 Tall Cseso was the bravest man 
 
 Of the brave Fabian race : 
 Aulus slew Rex of Gabii, 
 
 The priest of Juno's shrine : 
 Valerius smote down Julius, 
 
 Of Rome's great Julian line ; 
 Julius, w^ho left his mansion 
 
 High on the Velian hill. 
 And through all turns of weal and woe 
 
 Followed proud Tarquin still. 
 Now right across proud Tarquin 
 
 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 ; 
 But Titus stabbed Valerius 
 
 A span deep in the breast.
 
 ii6 
 
 Xags of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 Like a mast snapped by the tempest, 
 
 Valerius reeled and fell. 
 Ah ! woe is me for the good house 
 
 That loves the people well ! 
 Then shouted loud the Ivatines ; 
 
 And with one rush they bore 
 The struggling Romans backward 
 
 Three lances' length and more ; 
 
 And up they took proud Tarquin, 
 And laid him on a shield, 
 
 And four strong yeomen bare him, 
 Still senseless, from the field. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 But fiercer grew the fighting 
 
 Around Valerius dead ; 
 For Titus dragged him by the foot. 
 
 And Aulus bv the head.
 
 ^be :®attlc of tbc Xakc IRegillue u? 
 
 " On, Latines, on," quoth Titus, 
 
 " See how the rebels fly ! " 
 " 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. 
 
 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 ! ' ' 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then tenfold round the body 
 
 The roar of battle rose, 
 Ivike the roar of a burning forest, 
 
 When a strong north wind blows. 
 Now hackw^ard, and now forward. 
 
 Rocked furiously the fray, 
 Till norue could see Valerius, 
 
 And none wist where he lay. 
 For shi\^red arms and ensigns 
 
 Were heaped there in a mound, 
 And corpses stiff, and dying men 
 
 That writhed and gnawed the ground. 
 
 And wounded horses kicking, 
 And snorting purple foam :
 
 ii8 %a^0 of Bncicnt "Rome 
 
 Right well did such a couch befit 
 A Consular of Rome. 
 
 XX. 
 
 But uorth looked the Dictator ; 
 
 North looked he long and hard ; 
 And spake to Caius Cossus, 
 
 The Captain of his Guard : 
 " 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 : 
 
 *' 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 
 I see the dark-gray charger, 
 
 I see the purple vest ; 
 I see the golden helmet 
 
 That shines far off like flame ; 
 So ever rides Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name."
 
 Ube ^Battle of tbe %^\\c IRegillus 119 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Now hearken, Caius Cossus : 
 
 Spring on thy horse's back ; 
 Ride as the wolves of Apennine 
 
 Were all upon thy track ; 
 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 
 
 Again to that fierce strife ; 
 And Caius Cossus mounted, 
 
 And rode for death and life. 
 Lroud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs 
 
 The helmets of the dead, 
 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 
 
 And banners of the coast. 
 Ivike com before the sickle 
 
 The stout Lavinians fell. 
 Beneath the edge of the true sword 
 
 That kept the bridge so well.
 
 %a^e of Bncfent IRomc 
 
 " 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, 
 
 And there the Crest of Flame, 
 The Tusculan Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 Valerius hath fallen fighting 
 
 In front of our array : 
 And Aulus of the seventy fields 
 
 Alone upholds the day." 
 
 Herminius beat his bosom, 
 
 But never a word he spake. 
 He clapped his hand on Auster's mane 
 
 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. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Right glad were all the Romans 
 Who, in that hour of dread,
 
 ^be :fiSattle of tbe XaKc IRcaillus 121 
 
 Against great odds bare up the war 
 
 Around Valerius dead, 
 When from the south the cheering 
 
 Rose with a mighty swell ; 
 " Herminius comes, Herminius, 
 
 Who kept the bridge so well ! " 
 
 Mamilius spied Herminius, 
 
 And dashed across the way. 
 " 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, 
 
 And lay thou on for Rome ! "
 
 122 %a^6 ot Bncient *Kome 
 
 All round them paused the battle, 
 
 While met in mortal fray 
 The Roman and the Tusculan, 
 
 The horses black and gray. 
 Herminius smote Mamilius 
 
 Through breast-plate and through breast 
 And fast flowed out the purple blood 
 
 Over the purple vest. 
 Mamilius smote Herminius 
 
 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 ; 
 And still stood all who saw them fall 
 
 While men might count a score. 
 
 Fast, fast, with heels wild spuming, 
 
 The dark-gray charger fled : 
 He burst through ranks of fighting men 
 
 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.
 
 Zrbe ^Battle ot tbe %ahc UUcQiihw 123 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 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.
 
 124 
 
 Xags of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But, like a graven image, 
 Black Auster kept bis place, 
 
 And ever wistfully he looked 
 Into his master's face. 
 
 The raven-mane that daily, 
 With pats and fond caresses, 
 
 The young Herminia washed and combed, 
 
 And twined in even tresses. 
 And decked with colored ribbons 
 
 From her own gay attire, 
 Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse 
 
 In carnage and in mire. 
 Forth \s4th a shout sprang Titus, 
 
 And seized black Auster's rein.
 
 ^be JSattle of tbe XaKe H^egiUus 125 
 
 Then Aulus sware a fearful oath, 
 
 And ran at him amain. 
 *' The furies of thy brother 
 
 With me and mine abide, 
 If one of your accursed house 
 
 Upon black Auster ride ! " 
 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. 
 
 In a wide arch and tall, 
 As spouts a fountain in the court 
 
 Of some rich Capuan's hall. 
 The knees of all the Latines 
 
 Were loosened with dismay 
 When dead, on dead Herminius, 
 
 The bravest Tarquin lay. 
 
 And Aulus the Dictator 
 
 Stroked Auster's raven mane, 
 With heed he looked unto the girths. 
 
 With heed unto the rein. 
 " Now bear me well, Black Auster, 
 
 Into yon thick array ; 
 And thou and I will have revenge 
 
 For thy good lord this day."
 
 126 Xags of Bncient IRome 
 
 So spake lie ; and was buckling 
 
 Tighter black Auster's band, 
 When he was aware of a princely pair 
 
 That rode at his right hand. 
 So like they were, no mortal 
 
 Might one from the other know : 
 White as snow their armor was ; 
 
 Their steeds were white as snow. 
 Never on earthly anvil 
 
 Did such rare armor gleam ; 
 And never did such gallant steeds 
 
 Drink of an earthly stream. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And all who saw them trembled, 
 
 And pale grew every cheek ; 
 And Aulus the Dictator 
 
 Scarce gathered voice to speak. 
 " Say by what name men call you ? 
 
 What city is your home ? 
 And wherefore ride ye in such guise 
 
 Before the ranks of Rome ? " 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 " By many names men call us ; 
 In many lands we dwell :
 
 ^be JSattle of tbc Xafte IRecjillu^ 127 
 
 Well Samothracia knows us ; 
 
 Cyrene knows as well. * 
 Our house in gay Tarentum 
 
 Is hung each morn with flowers ; 
 High o'er the masts of Syracuse 
 
 Our marble portal towers ; 
 But by the proud Eurotas 
 
 Is our dear native home ; 
 And for the right we come to fight 
 
 Before the ranks of Rome." 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 So answered those strange horsemen, 
 And each couched low his spear ; 
 
 And forthwith all the ranks of Rome 
 Were bold, and of good cheer :
 
 [28 Xa^s ot Bncicnt IRomc 
 
 And on the thirty armies 
 
 Came wonder and affright, 
 And Ardea wavered on the left, 
 
 And Cora on the right. 
 " Rome to the charge ! " cried Aulus 
 
 " The foe begins to yield ! 
 Charge for the hearth of Vesta! 
 
 Charge for the Golden Shield ! 
 I^et no man stop to plunder, 
 
 But slay, and slay, and slay ; 
 The Gods who live for ever 
 
 Are on our side to-day. ' ' 
 
 Then the fierce trumpet-flourish 
 
 From earth to heaven arose. 
 The kites know well the long stem swell 
 
 That bids the Romans close. 
 Then the good sword of Aulus 
 
 Was lifted up to slay : 
 Then, like a crag down Apenuine, 
 
 Rushed Auster through the fray. 
 But under those strange horsemen 
 
 Still thicker lay the slain ; 
 And after those strange horses 
 
 Black Auster toiled in vain. 
 Behind them Rome's long battle 
 
 Came rolling on the foe,
 
 ^be :ffiattle ot tbe Xahe IRcQillus 129 
 
 Ensigns dancing wild above, 
 
 Blades all in line below. 
 So comes the Po in flood-time 
 
 Upon the Celtic plain ; 
 So conies the squall, blacker than night, 
 
 Upon the Adrian main. 
 Now, by our Sire Quirinus, 
 
 It was a goodly sight 
 To see the thirty standards 
 
 Swept down the tide of flight. 
 So flies the spray of Adria 
 
 When the black squall doth blow, 
 So corn-sheaves in the flood-time 
 
 Spin down the whirling Po. 
 False Sextus to the mountains 
 
 Turned first his horse's head ; 
 And fast fled Ferentinum, 
 
 And fast Lanuvium fled. 
 The horsemen of Nomentum 
 
 Spurred hard out of the fray ; 
 The footmen of Velitrse 
 
 Threw shield and spear away. 
 And underfoot was trampled. 
 
 Amidst the mud and gore, 
 The banner of proud Tusculum, 
 
 That never stooped before : 
 And down went Flavins Faustus, 
 
 Who led his stately ranks 
 From where the apple-blossoms wave
 
 I30 %n^e ot Bncient IRome 
 
 On Anio's echoing banks, 
 And Tullus of Arpinum, 
 
 Chief of the Volscian aids, 
 And Metius with the long fair curls. 
 
 The love of Anxur's maids, 
 And the white head of Vulso, 
 
 The great Arician seer, 
 
 And Nepos of Laurentum, 
 
 The hunter of the deer ; 
 And in the back false Sextus 
 
 Felt the good Roman steel. 
 And wriggling in the dust he died, 
 
 Like a worm beneath the wheel : 
 And fliers and pursuers 
 
 Were mingled in a mass ; 
 And far away the battle 
 
 Went roaring through the pass.
 
 ^be JBattle of tbe XaF?e IRegillua 131 
 
 Sempronius Atratinus 
 
 Sate in the Eastern Gate, 
 Beside him were three Fathers, 
 
 Each in his chair of state : 
 Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons 
 
 That day were in the field ; 
 And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve 
 
 Wh© keep the Golden Shield ; 
 And Sergius, the High Pontiff, 
 
 For wisdom far renowned ; 
 In all Etruria's colleges 
 
 Was no such Pontiff found. 
 And all around the portal, 
 
 And high above the wall, 
 Stood a great throng of people, 
 
 But sad and silent all ; 
 Young lads, and stooping elders 
 
 That might not bear the mail, 
 Matrons with lips that quivered. 
 
 And maids with faces pale. 
 Since the first gleam of da5'light, 
 
 Sempronius had not ceased 
 To listen for the rushing 
 
 Of horse-hoofs from, the east. 
 The mist of eve was rising, 
 
 The sun was hastening down. 
 When he was aware of a princely pair 
 
 Fast pricking towards the town.
 
 132 %a^e of ancient IRomc 
 
 So like they were, man never 
 
 Saw twins so like before ; 
 Red wdth gore their armor was, 
 
 Their steeds were red v/ith gore. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " Hail to the great Asylum ! 
 
 Hail to the hill-tops seven ! 
 Hail to the fire that burns for aye. 
 
 And the shield that fell from heaven ! 
 This day, by Lake Regillus, 
 
 Under the Porcian height, 
 All in the lands of Tusculum 
 
 Was fought a glorious fight. 
 To-morrow your Dictator 
 
 Shall bring in triumph home 
 The spoils of thirty cities 
 
 To deck the shrines of Rome ! " 
 
 Then burst from that great concourse 
 
 A shout that shook the towers, 
 And some ran north, and some ran south, 
 
 Crying, "The day is ours ! " 
 But on rode these strange horsemen. 
 
 With slow and lordly pace ; 
 And none who saw their bearing 
 
 Durst ask their name or race.
 

 
 [34 Xa^6 of Bnclent TRome 
 
 On rode they to the Forum, 
 
 While laurel-boughs and flowers, 
 From house-tops and from windows, 
 
 Fell on their crests in showers. 
 When they drew nigh to Vesta, 
 
 They vaulted down amain, 
 And washed their horses in the well 
 
 That springs by Vesta's fane. 
 And straight again they mounted, 
 
 And rode to Vesta's door ; 
 Then, like a blast, away they passed, 
 
 And no man saw them more. 
 
 XI.. 
 
 And all the people trembled, 
 
 And pale grew every cheek ; 
 And Sergius the High Pontiff 
 
 Alone found voice to speak : 
 ' ' The Gods who live for ever 
 
 Have fought for Rome to-day ! 
 These be the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 To whom the Dorians pray. 
 Back comes the Chief in triumph, 
 
 Who, in the hour of fight. 
 Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 In harness on his right. 
 Safe comes the ship to haven. 
 
 Through billows and through gales, 
 If once the Great Twin Brethren
 
 XLbc :fi3attle of tbe Xake IRegillus 135 
 
 Sit shining on the sails. 
 Wherefore they washed their horses 
 
 In Vesta's holy well, 
 WTierefore they rode to Vesta's door, 
 
 I know, but may not tell. 
 Here, hard by Vesta's Temple, 
 
 Build we a stately dome 
 Unto the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 Who fought so well for Rome. 
 And when the months returning 
 
 Bring back this day of fight, 
 The proud Ides of Quintilis, 
 
 Marked evermore with white, 
 Unto the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 Let all the people throng, 
 With chaplets and with offerings, 
 
 With music and with song ; 
 And let the doors and windows
 
 136 Xaga of Bnclent IRome 
 
 Be hung with garlands all, 
 And let the Knights be summoned 
 
 To Mars without the wall : 
 Thence let them ride in purple 
 
 With joyous trumpet-sound, 
 Each mounted on his war-horse. 
 
 And each with olive crowned ; 
 And pass in solemn order 
 
 Before the sacred dome. 
 Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren 
 
 Who fought so well for Rome ! ' '
 
 ^
 
 VIRGINIA. 
 
 A COLLECTION consisting exclusively of 
 war-songs would give an imperfect, or 
 rather an erroneous, notion of the spirit of the 
 old Latin ballads. The patricians, during more 
 than a century after the expulsion of the kings, 
 held all the high military commands, A ple- 
 beian, even though, like Lucius Siccius, he 
 were distinguished by his valor and knowledge 
 of war, could serve only in subordinate posts. 
 A minstrel, therefore, who wished to celebrate 
 the early triumphs of his country-, could hardly 
 take any but patricians for his heroes. The 
 warriors who are mentioned in the two pre- 
 ceding lays, Horatius, Lartius, Herminius, 
 Aulus Posthumius, ^butius Elva, Sempronius 
 Atratinus, Valerius Poplicola, were all members
 
 I40 Xags ot Bnclcnt IRome 
 
 of the dominant order ; and a poet who was 
 singing their praises, whatever his own political 
 opinions might be, would naturally abstain 
 from insulting the class to which they be- 
 longed, and from reflecting on the system 
 which had placed such men at the head of the 
 legions of the commonwealth. 
 
 But there was a class of compositions in 
 which the great families were by no means so 
 courteously treated. No parts of early Roman 
 history are richer with poetical coloring than 
 those which relate to the long contest between 
 the privileged houses and the commonalty. 
 The population of Rome was, from a very early 
 period, divided into hereditary castes, which, 
 indeed, readily united to repel foreign enemies, 
 but which regarded each other, during many 
 years, with bitter animosity. Between those 
 castes there was a barrier hardly less strong 
 than that which, at Venice, parted the members 
 of the Great Council from their countrymen. 
 In some respects, indeed, the line which sepa- 
 rated an Icilius or a Duilius from a Posthumius 
 or a Fabius was even more deeply marked than
 
 Dircjinla 141 
 
 that which separated the rower of a gondola 
 from a Contarini or a Morosini. At Venice the 
 distinction was merely civil. At Rome it was 
 both ci\dl and religious. Among the grievances 
 under which the plebeians suffered, three were 
 felt as peculiarly severe. They were excluded 
 from the highest magistracies ; they were ex- 
 cluded from all share in the public lands ; and 
 they were ground down to the dust by partial 
 and barbarous legislation touching pecuniary 
 contracts. The ruling class in Rome was a 
 moneyed class ; and it made and administered 
 the laws with a view solely to its own interest. 
 Thus the relation between lender and borrower 
 was mixed up with the relation between sover- 
 eign and subject. The great men held a large 
 portion of the community in dependence by 
 means of advances at enormous usury. The 
 law of debt, framed by creditors, and for the 
 protection of creditors, was the most horrible 
 that has ever been known among men. The 
 liberty, and even the life, of the insolvent were 
 at the mercy of the patrician money-lenders. 
 Children often became slaves in consequence
 
 142 Xai26 of Bnclcnt IRome 
 
 of the misfortunes of their parents. The debtor 
 was imprisoned, not in a public jail under the 
 care of impartial public functionaries, but in a 
 private workhouse belonging to the creditor. 
 Frightful stories were told respecting these 
 dungeons. It was said that torture and brutal 
 violation were common ; that tight stocks, 
 heavy chains, scanty measures of food, were 
 used to punish wretches guilty of nothing but 
 poverty ; and that brave soldiers, whose breasts 
 were covered with honorable scars, were often 
 marked still more deeply on the back by the 
 scourges of high-born usurers. 
 
 The plebeians were, however, not wholly 
 without constitutional rights. From an early 
 period they had been admitted to some share 
 of political power. They were enrolled each in 
 his century, and were allowed a share, consid- 
 erable though not proportioned to their nu- 
 merical strength, in the disposal of those high 
 dignities from which they were themselves ex- 
 cluded. Thus their position bore some resem- 
 blance to that of the Irish Catholics during the 
 interval between the year 1792 and the year
 
 IDirginia 143 
 
 1829. The plebeians had also the privilege of 
 annually appointing officers, named tribunes, 
 who had no active share in the government 
 of the commonwealth, but who, by degrees, 
 acquired a power formidable even to the ablest 
 and most resolute consuls and dictators. The 
 person of the tribune was inviolable ; and, 
 though he could directly effect little, he could 
 obstruct every thing. 
 
 During more than a century after the institu- 
 tion of the tribuneship, the commons struggled 
 manfully for the removal of the grievances un- 
 der which they labored ; and, in spite of many 
 checks and reverses, succeeded in w^ringing 
 concession after concession from the stubborn 
 aristocracy. At length, in the year of the city 
 378, both parties mustered their whole strength 
 for their last and most desperate conflict. The 
 popular and active tribune, Caius Licinius, 
 proposed the three memorable laws which are 
 called by his name, and which were intended 
 to redress the three great evils of which the 
 plebeians complained. He was supported, with 
 eminent ability and firmness, by his colleague,
 
 144 %n^e of Bncient "Komc 
 
 Lucius vSextius. The struggle appears to have 
 been the fiercest that ever in any community 
 terminated without an appeal to arms. If such 
 a contest had raged in any Greek city, the 
 streets would have run with blood. But, even 
 in the paroxysms of faction, the Roman re- 
 tained his gravity, his respect for law, and his 
 tenderness for the lives of his fellow-citizens. 
 Year after year Licinius and Sextius were re- 
 elected tribunes. Year after year, if the nar- 
 rative which has come down to us is to be 
 trusted, they continued to exert, to the full ex- 
 tent, their power of stopping the whole machine 
 of government. No curule magistrates could 
 be chosen ; no military muster could be held. 
 We know too little of the state of Rome in 
 those days to be able to conjecture how, during 
 that long anarchy, the peace was kept, and 
 ordinary justice administered between man and 
 man. The animosity of both parties rose to the 
 greatest height. The excitement, we may well 
 suppose, would have been peculiarly intense at 
 the annual election of tribunes. On such oc- 
 casions there can be little doubt that the great
 
 liJirginta 145 
 
 families did all that could be done, by threats 
 and caresses, to break the union of the plebe- 
 ians. That union, however, proved indissolu- 
 ble. At length the good cause triumphed. The 
 Licinian laws w^ere carried. Lucius Sextius was 
 the first plebeian consul, Caius Licinius the 
 third. 
 
 The results of this great change were singu- 
 larly happy and glorious. Two centuries of 
 prosperity, harmony, and victory followed the 
 reconciliation of the orders. Men who remem- 
 bered Rome engaged in waging petty wars al- 
 most in sight of the Capitol lived to see her the 
 mistress of Italy. While the disabilities of the 
 plebeians continued, she was scarcely able to 
 maintain her ground against the Volscians and 
 Hemicans. When those disabilities were re- 
 moved, she rapidly became more than a match 
 for Carthage and Macedon. 
 
 During the great Licinian contest the ple- 
 beian poets were, doubtless, not silent. Even 
 in modern times songs have been by no means 
 without influence on public affairs ; and we 
 may therefore infer that, in a society where
 
 146 Xaga of Bncient IRomc 
 
 printing was unknown, and where books were 
 rare, a pathetic or humorous party-ballad must 
 have produced effects such as we can but faintly 
 conceive. It is certain that satirical poems 
 were common at Rome from a very early period. 
 The rustics, who lived at a distance from the 
 seat of government, and took little part in the 
 strife of factions, gave vent to their petty local 
 animosities in coarse Fescennine verse. The 
 lampoons of the city were doubtless of a higher 
 order, and their sting was early felt by the 
 nobility. For in the Twelve Tables, long 
 before the time of tfie Licinian laws, a severe 
 punishment was denounced against the citizen 
 who should compose or recite verses reflecting 
 on another.^ Satire is, indeed, the only sort of 
 composition in which the Latin poets, whose 
 works have come down to us, were not mere 
 imitators of foreign models, and it is therefore 
 the only sort of composition in which they have 
 
 * Cicero justly infers from this law that there had been 
 early I^atin poets whose works had been lost before his 
 time.—" Quamquam id quidem etiam xii tabulae declar- 
 ant, condi jam tum solitum esse carmen, quod ne liceret 
 fieri ad alterius injuriam lege sanxerunt."— Tusc, iv., 2.
 
 Dirainia 147 
 
 never been rivalled. It was not, like their 
 tragedy, their comedy, their epic and lyric 
 poetry, a hothouse plant which, in return for 
 assiduous and skilful culture, gave only scanty 
 and sickly fruits. It was hardy and full of 
 sap, and in all the various juices which it 
 yielded might be distinguished the flavor of the 
 Ausonian soil. " Satire," says Quinctilian, with 
 just pride, "is all our own." Satire sprang, 
 in truth, naturally from the constitution of the 
 Roman people, and, though at length subjected 
 to metrical rules derived from Greece, retained 
 to the last an essentially Roman character, 
 l/ucilius was the earliest satirist whose works 
 were held in esteem under the Caesars. But 
 many years before Lucilius was born, Naevius 
 was flung into a dungeon, and guarded there 
 with circumstances of unusual rigor, on account 
 of the bitter lines in which he had attacked the 
 great Caecilian family.^ The genius and spirit 
 of the Roman satirist survived the liberty of 
 their country, and were not extinguished by the 
 cruel despotism of the Julian and Fla\'ian em- 
 * Plaiitus, Miles Gloriosus. Aulus Gelluis, iii., 3.
 
 I4S Xags of Bncient IRomc 
 
 perors. The great poet who told the story of 
 Domitian's turbot was the legitimate successor 
 of those forgotten minstrels whose songs ani- 
 mated the factions of the infant republic. 
 
 These minstrels, as Niebuhr has remarked, 
 appeared to have generally taken the popular 
 side. We can hardly be mistaken in supposing 
 that, at the great crisis of the civil conflict, 
 they employed themselves in versifying all the 
 most powerful and virulent speeches of the 
 tribunes, and in heaping abuse on the leaders 
 of the aristocracy. Every personal defect, every 
 domestic scandal, every tradition dishonorable to 
 a noble house, would be sought, brought out into 
 notice, and exaggerated. The illustrious head 
 of the aristocratical party, Marcus Furius Ca- 
 millus, might perhaps be, in some measure, 
 protected by his venerable age and by the mem- 
 ory of his great ser\4ces to the state. But Ap- 
 pius Claudius Crassus enjoyed no such im- 
 munity. He was descended from a long line of 
 ancestors distinguished by their haughty de- 
 meanor, and by the inflexibility with which 
 they had withstood all the demands of the pie-
 
 IDirginia mq 
 
 beian order. While the political conduct and 
 the deportment of the Claudian nobles drew 
 upon them the fiercest public hatred, they were 
 accused of wanting, if any credit is due to the 
 early history- of Rome, a class of qualities which, 
 in the military commonwealth, is sufficient to 
 cover a multitude of offences. The chiefs of 
 the family appear to have been eloquent, versed 
 in civil business, and learned after the fashion 
 of their age ; but in war they were not dis- 
 tinguished by skill or valor. Some of them, as 
 if conscious where their weakness lay, had, 
 when filling the highest magistracies, taken 
 internal administration as their department of 
 public business, and left the military command 
 to their colleagues.* One of them had been in- 
 trusted with an army, and had failed ignomin- 
 iously.f None of them had been honored with 
 a triumph. None of them had achieved any 
 martial exploit, such as those by which Lucius 
 Quinctius Cincinnatus, Titus Quinctius Capi- 
 tolinus, Aulus Cornelius Cossus, and, above all, 
 
 * In the years of the city 260, 304, and 330. 
 i-In the year of the city 282.
 
 ISO Xag5 ot Bncicnt IRomc 
 
 the great Camillus, had extorted the reluctant 
 esteem of the multitude. During the Ivicinian 
 conflict Appius Claudius Crassus signalized him- 
 self by the ability and severity with which he 
 harangued against the two great agitators. He 
 would naturally, therefore, be the favorite mark 
 of the plebeian satirists ; nor would they have 
 been at a loss to find a point on which he was 
 open to attack. 
 
 His grandfather, called, like himself, Appius 
 Claudius, had left a name as much detested as 
 that of Sextus Tarquinius. This elder Appius 
 had been consul more than seventy years be- 
 fore the introduction of the Licinian laws. By 
 availing himself of a singular crisis in public 
 feeling, he had obtained the consent of the 
 commons to the abolition of the tribuneship, 
 and had been the chief of that council of Ten 
 to which the whole direction of the state had 
 been committed. In a few months his admin- 
 istration had become universally odious. It 
 had been swept away by an irresistible out- 
 break of popular fury ; and its memory was 
 still held in abhorrence by the whole city.
 
 \t)irginia 151 
 
 The immediate cause of the downfall of this 
 execrable government was said to have been 
 an attempt made by Appius Claudius upon the 
 chastity of a beautiful 3'oung girl of humble 
 birtii. The story ran that the Decemvir, unable 
 to succeed by bribes and solicitations, resorted 
 to an outrageous act of tyranny. A vile de- 
 pendant of the Claudian house laid claim to the 
 damsel as his slave. The cause was brought 
 before the tribunal of Appius. The wicked 
 magistrate, in defiance of the clearest proofs, 
 gave judgment for the claimant. But the girl's 
 father, a brave soldier, saved her from servitude 
 and dishonor by stabbing her to the heart in 
 the sight of the whole Forum. That blow was 
 the signal for a general explosion. Camp and 
 city rose at once ; the Ten were pulled down ; 
 the tribuneship was reestablished ; and Appius 
 escaped the hands of the executioner only by a 
 voluntary' death. 
 
 It can hardly be doubted that a story so ad- 
 mirably adapted to the purposes both of the 
 poet and of the demagogue would be eagerly 
 seized upon by minstrels burning with hatred
 
 152 Xai20 of Bncient IRome 
 
 against the patrician order, against the Claudian 
 house, and especially against the grandson and 
 namesake of the infamous Decemvir. 
 
 In order that the reader may judge fairly of 
 these fragments of the lay of Virginia, he must 
 imagine himself a plebeian who has just voted 
 for the reelection of Sextius and Licinius. All 
 the power of the patricians has been exerted to 
 throw out the two great champions of the 
 commons, Bvery Posthumius, ^milius, and 
 Cornelius has used his influence to the utmost. 
 Debtors have been let out of the workhouses 
 on condition of voting against the men of the 
 people ; clients have been posted to hiss and 
 interrupt the favorite candidates ; Appius Clau- 
 dius Crassus has spoken with more than his 
 usual eloquence and asperity; all has been in 
 vain : Licinius and Sextius have a fifth time 
 carried all the tribes ; work is suspended ; the 
 booths are closed ; the plebeians bear on their 
 shoulders the two champions of liberty through 
 the Forum. Just at this moment it is an- 
 nounced that a popular poet, a zealous adherent 
 of the tribunes, has made a new song which
 
 Dfrainia 
 
 153 
 
 will cut the Claudian nobles to the heart. The 
 crowd gathers round him, and calls on him to 
 recite it. He takes his stand on the spot where, 
 according to tradition, Virginia, more than 
 seventy years ago, was seized by the pander of 
 Appius, and he begins his story.
 
 VIRGINIA. 
 
 FRAGMENTS OF A I.AY SUXG IN THF FORUM ON 
 THF DAY WHEREON I^UCIUS SEXTIUS SEX- 
 TINUS LATERANUS AND CAIUS I.ICINIUS CAI.- 
 VUS STOI,0 WERE EEECTED TRIBUNES OF THE 
 COMMONS THE FIFTH TIME, IN THE YEAR OF 
 THE CITY CCCI.XXXII. 
 
 YE good men of the Commons, with lo\nng 
 hearts and true, 
 Who stand by the bold Tribunes that still have 
 stood by you,
 
 156 !!La^6 of Bncfcnt IRome 
 
 Come, make a circle round me, and mark my 
 
 tale with care, 
 A tale of what Rome once hath borne, of what 
 
 Rome yet may bear. 
 This is no Grecian fable, of fountains running 
 
 wine, 
 Of maids with snaky tresses, or sailors turned 
 
 to swine. 
 Here, in this very Forum, under the noonday 
 
 sun. 
 In sight of all the people, the bloody deed was 
 
 done. 
 Old men still creep among us who saw that 
 
 fearful day. 
 Just seventy years and seven ago, w^hen the 
 
 wicked Ten bare sway. 
 
 Of all the wicked Ten still the names are held 
 
 accursed, 
 And of all the wncked Ten Appius Claudius was 
 
 the worst. 
 He stalked along the Forum like King Tarquin 
 
 in his pride : 
 Twelve axes waited on him, six marching on a 
 
 side ; 
 The townsmen shrank to right and left, and 
 
 eyed askance wdth fear 
 His low^ering brow, his curling mouth, w^hich 
 
 always seemed to sneer :
 
 tDirginia 157 
 
 That brow of hate, that mouth of scorn, marks 
 
 all the kindred still ; 
 For never was there Claudius yet but wished 
 
 the Commons ill. 
 Nor lacks he fit attendance ; for close behind 
 
 his heels, 
 With outstretched chin and crouching pace, the 
 
 client Marcus steals, 
 His loins girt up to run with speed, be the er- 
 rand what it may, 
 And the smile flickering on his cheek, for 
 
 aught his lord may say. 
 Such varlets pimp and jest for hire among the 
 
 lying Greeks ; 
 Such varlets still are paid to hoot when brave 
 
 Licinius speaks. 
 Where'er ye shed the honey, the buzzing flies 
 
 will crowd ; 
 Where'er ye fling the carrion, the raven's croak 
 
 is loud ; 
 Where'er down Tiber garbage floats, the greedy 
 
 pike ye see ; 
 And wheresoe'er such lord is found, such client 
 
 still will be. 
 
 Just then, as through one cloudless chink in a 
 black stormy sky. 
 Shines out the dewy morning-star, a fair young 
 girl came by.
 
 158 
 
 Xagg of Bnctent IRome 
 
 With her small tablets in her hand, and her 
 
 satchel on her arm, 
 Home she went bounding from the school, nor 
 
 dreamed of shame or harm ; 
 And past those dreaded axes she innocently 
 
 ran, 
 With bright, frank brow that had not learned to 
 
 blush at gaze of man ; 
 
 And up the Sacred Street she turned, and, as 
 
 she danced along. 
 She warbled gayly to herself lines of the good 
 
 old song. 
 How for a sport the princes came spurring from 
 
 the camp. 
 And found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under 
 
 the midnight lamp.
 
 Virginia 159 
 
 The maiden sang as sings the lark, when up he 
 
 darts his flight, 
 From his nest in the green April corn, to meet 
 
 the morning light ; 
 And Appius heard her sweet young voice, and 
 
 saw her sweet young face, 
 And loved her with the accursed love of his 
 
 accursed race, 
 And all along the Forum, and up the Sacred 
 
 Street, 
 His ATilture eye pursued the trip of those small 
 
 srlancino: feet. 
 
 Over the Alban mountains the light of morn- 
 ing broke ; 
 From all the roofs of the Seven Hills curled the 
 
 thin wreaths of smoke ; 
 The city gates were opened ; the Forum all alive 
 With buyers and with sellers was humming like 
 
 a hive : 
 Blithely on brass and timber the craftsman's 
 
 stroke was ringing, 
 And blithely o'er her panniers the market-girl 
 
 was singing. 
 And blithely young Virginia came smiling from 
 
 her home : 
 Ah ! woe for young Virginia, the sweetest maid 
 
 in Rome !
 
 i6o Uags of Bnclent IRome 
 
 With her small tablets in her hand, and her 
 satchel on her arm, 
 
 Forth she went bounding to the school, nor 
 dreamed of shame or harm. 
 
 She crossed the Forum shining with stalls in 
 alleys gay. 
 
 And just had reached the very spot whereon I 
 stand this day. 
 
 When up the varlet Marcus came ; not such as 
 when erewhile 
 
 He crouched behind his patron's heels with the 
 true client smile : 
 
 He came with lowering forehead, swollen fea- 
 tures, and clenched fist. 
 
 And strode across Virginia's path, and caught 
 her by the wrist. 
 
 Hard strove the frightened maiden, and 
 screamed with look aghast ; 
 
 And at her scream from right and left the folk 
 came running fast : 
 
 The money-changer Crispus, with his thin sil- 
 ver hairs, 
 
 And Hanno from the stately booth glittering 
 with Punic wares, 
 
 And the strong smith Muraena, grasping a half- 
 forged brand, 
 
 And Volero the flesher, his cleaver in his hand. 
 
 All came in wrath and wonder ; for all knew 
 that fair child ;
 
 IDfrcjinia i6i 
 
 And, as she passed them twice a day, all kissed 
 
 their hands and smiled ; 
 And the strong smith Muraena gave Marcus such 
 
 a blow, 
 The caitiff reeled three paces back, and let the 
 
 maiden go. 
 Yet glared he fiercely round him, and growled 
 
 in harsh, fell tone : 
 *' She 's mine, and I will have her ; I seek but 
 
 for mine own : 
 She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen 
 
 away and sold. 
 The year of the sore sickness, ere she was twelve 
 
 hours old. 
 'T was in the sad September, the month of w^ail 
 
 and fright, 
 Two Augurs were borne forth that mom ; the 
 
 Consul died ere night. 
 I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire : 
 Let him whQ works the client wrong beware 
 
 the patron's ire ! " 
 
 So spake the varlet Marcus ; and dread and si- 
 lence came 
 
 On all the people at the sound of the great 
 Claudian name. 
 
 For then there was no Tribune to speak the 
 word of might,
 
 i62 %n^6 of Bncient IRomc 
 
 Which makes the rich man tremble, and guards 
 the poor man's right. 
 
 There was no brave Licinius, no honest Sextius 
 then ; 
 
 But all the city, in great fear, obeyed the wicked 
 Ten. 
 
 Yet ere the varlet Marcus again might seize 
 the maid, 
 
 Who clung tight to Muraena's skirt, and sobbed 
 and shrieked for aid, 
 
 Forth through the throng of gazers the young 
 Icilius pressed. 
 
 And stamped his foot, and rent his gown, and 
 smote upon his breast. 
 
 And sprang upon that column, by many a min- 
 strel sung, 
 
 Whereon three mouldering helmets, three rust- 
 ing swords are hung. 
 
 And beckoned to the people, and in bold voice 
 and clear 
 
 Poured thick and fast the burning words which 
 tyrants quake to hear : 
 
 " Now, by your children's cradles, now by 
 
 your fathers' graves, 
 Be men to-day, Quirites, or be for ever slaves ! 
 For' this did Servius give us laws ? For this did 
 
 lyucrece bleed ?
 
 Virginia 
 
 :63 
 
 For this was the great vengeance wrought on 
 
 Tarquin's evil seed ? 
 For this did those false sons make red the axes 
 
 of their sire ? 
 For this did Scaevola's right hand hiss in the 
 
 Tuscan fire ? 
 Shall the xi\e fox-earth awe the race that 
 
 stormed the lion's den ? 
 
 Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch 
 
 to the wicked Ten ? 
 O for that ancient spirit which curbed the 
 
 Senate's will ! 
 O for the tents which in old time whitened the 
 
 Sacred Hill ! 
 In those brave days our fathers stood firmly 
 
 side by side ;
 
 i64 %n^6 Of Bnctent IRomc 
 
 They faced the Marcian fury ; they tamed the 
 
 Fabian pride : 
 They drove the fiercest Quinctius an outcast 
 
 forth from Rome ; 
 They sent the haughtiest Claudius with shivered 
 
 fasces home. 
 But what their care bequeathed us our madness 
 
 flung away ; 
 All the ripe fruit of threescore years was 
 
 blighted in a day. 
 Exult, ye proud Patricians ! The hard-fought 
 
 fight is o'er. 
 We strove for honors — 't was in vain ; for free- 
 dom — 't is no more. 
 No crier to the polling summons the eager 
 
 throng ; 
 No Tribune breathes the word of might that 
 
 guards the weak from wrong. 
 Our very hearts, that were so high, sink down 
 
 beneath your will. 
 Riches, and lands, and power, and state — ye 
 
 have them : — keep them still. 
 Still keep the holy fillets ; still keep the purple 
 
 gown. 
 The axes, and the curule chair, the car, and 
 
 laurel crown ; 
 Still press us for your cohorts, and, when the 
 
 fight is done, 
 Still fill your garners from the soil which our 
 
 good swords have won.
 
 IDirginia 165 
 
 Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft 
 
 raay not cure. 
 Let your foul usance eat away the substance of 
 
 the poor. 
 Still let your haggard debtors bear all their 
 
 fathers bore ; 
 Still let your dens of torment be noisome as of 
 
 yore ; 
 No fire when Tiber freezes ; no air in dog-star 
 
 heat ; 
 And store of rods for free-born backs, and holes 
 
 for free-born feet. 
 Heap heavier still the fetters ; bar closer still 
 
 the grate ; 
 Patient as sheep we yield us up unto your cruel 
 
 hate. 
 But, by the Shades beneath us, and by the Gods 
 
 above. 
 Add not unto your cruel hate your yet more 
 
 cruel love ! 
 Have ye not graceful ladies, whose spotless 
 
 lineage springs 
 From Consuls, and High Pontiffs, and ancient 
 
 Alban kings ? 
 Ladies, who deign not on our paths to set their 
 
 tender feet. 
 Who from their cars look down with scorn upon 
 
 the wondering street. 
 Who in Corinthian mirrors their own proud 
 
 smiles behold,
 
 i66 Xai^s of Bncicnt TRome 
 
 And breathe of Capuau odors, and shine with 
 
 Spanish gold ? 
 Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to 
 
 life— 
 The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister, and 
 
 of wife, 
 The gentle speech, the balm for all that his 
 
 vexed soul endures. 
 The kiss, in which he half forgets even such a 
 
 yoke as yours. 
 Still let the maiden's beauty swell the fathers 
 
 breast with pride ; 
 Still let the bridegroom's arms infold an un- 
 polluted bride. 
 Spare us the inexpiable wrong, the unutterable 
 
 shame. 
 That turns the coward's heart to steel, the 
 
 sluggard's blood to flame, 
 l/cst, when our latest hope is fled, ye taste of 
 
 our despair. 
 And learn by proof, in some wild hour, how 
 
 much the wretched dare." 
 
 * * 4«- -Sf 4«- * 
 
 Straightway Virginius led the maid a little 
 
 space aside, 
 To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up 
 
 with horn and hide, 
 Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a 
 
 crimson flood,
 
 Dirginia 167 
 
 Leaps down to the great sewer the gurgling 
 
 stream of blood. 
 Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his 
 
 whittle down ; 
 Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in 
 
 his gown. 
 And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat 
 
 began to swell, 
 
 And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake : 
 
 ' * Farewell, sweet child ! Farewell ! 
 Oh ! how I loved my darling ! Though stem I 
 
 sometimes be. 
 To thee, thou know'st I was not so. \Vh.o could 
 
 be so to thee ? 
 And how my darling loved me ! How glad she 
 
 was to hear 
 My footstep on the threshold when I came back 
 
 last year !
 
 1 68 
 
 5Las0 of Bncient IRome 
 
 And how she danced with pleasure to see my 
 
 civic crown, 
 And took my sword, and hung it up, and brought 
 
 me forth my gown ! 
 Now, all those things are over — yes, all thy 
 
 pretty ways. 
 Thy needlework, thy prattle, thy snatches of 
 
 old lays ; 
 
 And none will grieve when I go forth, or smile 
 
 when I return, 
 Or watch beside the old man's bed, or weep 
 
 upon his urn. 
 The house that was the happiest within the 
 
 Roman walls. 
 The house that envied not the wealth of Capua's 
 
 marble halls, 
 Now, for the brightness of thy smile, must have 
 
 eternal gloom,
 
 IDirainla 
 
 169 
 
 And for the music of thy voice, the silence of 
 
 the tomb. 
 The time is come. See how he points his eager 
 
 hand this way ! 
 See how his eyes gloat on thy grief, like a kite's 
 
 upon the prey ! 
 With all his wit, he little dreams, that, spurned, 
 
 betrayed, bereft, 
 
 Thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge 
 
 left. 
 He little deems that in this hand I clutch what 
 
 still can save 
 Thy gentle youth from taunts and blows, the 
 
 portion of the slave ; 
 Yea, and from nameless evil, that passeth taunt 
 
 and blow — 
 Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which 
 
 thou shalt never know.
 
 170 !JLas6 of Bncient IRome 
 
 Then clasp me round the neck once more, and 
 
 give me one more kiss ; 
 And now, mine own dear little girl, there is no 
 
 way but this." 
 "With that he lifted high the steel, and smote 
 
 her in the side, 
 And in her blood she sank to earth, and with 
 
 one sob she died. 
 
 Then, for a little moment, all people held 
 
 their breath ; 
 And through the crowded Forum was stillness 
 
 as of death ; 
 And in another moment brake forth from one 
 
 and all 
 A cry as if the Volscians were coming o'er the 
 
 wall. 
 Some with averted faces, shrieking, fled home 
 
 amain ; 
 Some ran to call a leech ; and some ran to lift 
 
 the slain ; 
 Some felt her lips and little wrist, if life might 
 
 there be found ; 
 And some tore up their garments fast, and strove 
 
 to stanch the w^ound. 
 In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched ; for 
 
 never truer blow 
 That good right arm had dealt in fight against 
 
 a Volscian foe.
 
 IDirainia 
 
 171 
 
 When Appius Claudius saw that deed, he 
 shuddered and sank down, 
 
 And hid his face some little space with the cor- 
 ner of his gown, 
 
 Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Vir- 
 ginius tottered nigh, 
 
 And stood before the judgment-seat, and held 
 the knife on high. 
 
 ' ' Oh ! dwellers in the nether gloom, avengers 
 of the slain, 
 
 By this dear blood I cry to you, do right be- 
 tween us twain ; 
 
 And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me 
 and mine,
 
 [72 Xa^6 of Bncfent IRome 
 
 Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Clau- 
 
 dian line! " 
 So spake the slayer of his child, and turned, 
 
 and went his way ; 
 But first he cast one haggard glance to where 
 
 the body lay, 
 And writhed, and groaned a fearful groan, and 
 
 then, with steadfast feet. 
 Strode right across the market-place unto the 
 
 Sacred Street. 
 
 Then up sprang Appius Claudius : ' ' Stop 
 
 him ; alive or dead ! 
 Ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who 
 
 brings his head." 
 He looked upon his clients ; but none would 
 
 work his will. 
 He looked upon his lictors ; but they trembled, 
 
 and stood still. 
 And, as Virginius through the press his w^ay in 
 
 silence cleft. 
 Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right 
 
 and left. 
 And he hath passed in safety unto his woful 
 
 home, 
 And there ta'en horse to tell the camp what 
 
 deeds are done in Rome. 
 
 By this the flood of people was swollen from 
 every side,
 
 Dir^inta 173 
 
 And streets and porches round were filled with 
 
 that o'erflowing tide ; 
 And close around the body gathered a little 
 
 train 
 Of them that were the nearest and dearest to 
 
 the slain. 
 They brought a bier, and hung it with many a 
 
 cypress crown, 
 And gently they uplifted her, and gently laid 
 
 her down. 
 The face of Appius Claudius wore the Claudian 
 
 scowl and sneer, 
 And in the Claudian note he cried : "What doth 
 
 this rabble here ? 
 Have they no crafts to mind at home, that 
 
 hitherward they stray ? 
 Ho ! lictors, clear the market-place, and fetch 
 
 the corpse away ! " 
 The voice of grief and furj^ till then had not 
 
 been loud ; 
 But a deep sullen murmur wandered among the 
 
 crowd, 
 Like the moaning noise that goes before the 
 
 whirlwind on the deep. 
 Or the growl of a fierce watch-dog but half- 
 aroused from sleep. 
 But when the lictors at that word, tall yeomen 
 
 all and strong, 
 Each with his axe and sheaf of twigs, went 
 
 down into the throng,
 
 174 Xa^a of Bncient IRome 
 
 Those old men say, who saw that day of sorrow 
 
 and of sin, 
 That in the Roman Forum was never such a din. 
 The wailing, hooting, cmrsing, the howls of grief 
 
 and hate, 
 "Were heard beyond the Pincian Hill, beyond 
 
 the Latin Gate. 
 But close around the body, where stood the 
 
 little train 
 Of them that were the nearest and dearest to 
 
 the slain, 
 No cries were there, but teeth set fast, low 
 
 whispers and black frowns, 
 And breaking up of benches, and girding up of 
 
 gowns. 
 'T was well the lictors might not pierce to w^here 
 
 the maiden lay, 
 Else surely had they been all twelve torn limb 
 
 from limb that day. 
 Right glad they w^ere to struggle back, blood 
 
 streaming from their heads, 
 With axes all in splinters, and raiment all in 
 
 shreds. 
 Then Appius Claudius gnawed his lip, and the 
 
 blood left his cheek ; 
 And thrice he beckoned with his hand, and 
 
 thrice he strove to speak ; 
 And thrice the tossing Forum set up a frightful 
 
 yell:
 
 Dirgiuia 
 
 17; 
 
 "See, see, thou dog ! what thou hast doue ; and 
 
 hide thy shame in hell ! 
 Thou that vrouldst make our maidens slaves 
 
 must first make slaves of men. 
 Tribunes ! Hurrah for Tribunes ! Down with 
 
 the wicked Ten ! " 
 And straightway, thick as hailstones, came 
 
 whizzing through the air 
 Pebbles, and bricks, and potsherds, all round 
 
 the curule chair ; 
 
 And upon Appius Claudius great fear and 
 
 trembling came ; 
 For never was a Claudius yet brave against 
 
 aught but shame. 
 Though the great houses love us not, we own, 
 
 to do them right, 
 That the great houses, all save one, have borne 
 
 them well in fight. 
 Still Caius of Corioli, his triumphs and his 
 
 wrongs.
 
 176 Xag6 ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 His vengeance and his mercy, live in our camp- 
 fire songs. 
 Beneath the yoke of Furius oft have Gaul and 
 
 Tuscan bowed ; 
 And Rome may bear the pride of him of whom 
 
 herself is proud. 
 But evermore a Claudius shrinks from a stricken 
 
 field, 
 And changes color like a maid at sight of sword 
 
 and shield. 
 The Claudiau triumphs all were won within the 
 
 city towers ; 
 The Claudian yoke was never pressed on any 
 
 necks but ours. 
 A Cossus, like a wild cat, springs ever at the 
 
 face ; 
 A Fabius rushes like a boar against the shout- 
 ing chase ; 
 But the vile Claudian litter, raging with currish 
 
 spite, 
 Still yelps and snaps at those who run, still 
 
 runs from those who smite. 
 So now 't was seen of Appius. When stones 
 
 began to fly. 
 He shook, and crouched, and wrung his hands, 
 
 and smote upon his thigh. 
 ** Kind clients, honest lictors, stand by me in 
 
 this fray ! 
 Must I be torn in pieces? Home, home, the 
 
 nearest way ! "
 
 ^
 
 78 Xa^s of Bncient IRome 
 
 While yet he spake, and looked around with a 
 
 bewildered stare, 
 Four sturdy lictors put their necks beneath the 
 
 curule chair; 
 And fourscore clients on the left, and fourscore 
 
 on the right. 
 Arrayed themselves with swords and staves, 
 
 and loins girt up for fight. 
 But, though without or staff or sw^ord, so furious 
 
 was the throng. 
 That scarce the train with might and main 
 
 could bring their lord along. 
 Twelve times the crowd made at him ; five 
 
 times they seized his gown ; 
 Small chance was his to rise again, if once they 
 
 got him dow^n : 
 And sharper came the pelting ; and evermore 
 
 the yell — 
 "Tribunes! we will have Tribunes!" — rose 
 
 with a louder swell : 
 And the chair tossed as tosses a bark with tat- 
 tered sail 
 "When raves the Adriatic beneath an eastern gale, 
 "When the Calabrian sea-marks are lost in clouds 
 
 of spume, 
 And the great Thunder-Cape has donned his 
 
 veil of inky gloom. 
 One stone hit Appius in the mouth, and one 
 
 beneath the ear ;
 
 Dlrcjinin 
 
 And ere he reached Mount Palatine, he swooned 
 
 with pain and fear. 
 His cursed head, that he was wont to hold so 
 
 high with pride, 
 Now, like a drunken man's, hung down, and 
 
 swayed from side to side ; 
 And when his stout retainers had brought him 
 
 to his door, 
 His face and neck were all one cake of filth 
 
 and clotted gore. 
 As Appius Claudius was that day, so may his 
 
 grandson be ! 
 God send Rome one such other sight, and send 
 
 me there to see ! 

 
 THE PROPHECY OE CAPYS.
 
 THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 IT can hardly be necessan^ to remind any 
 reader that, according to the popular tra- 
 dition, Romulus, after he had slain his grand- 
 uncle Amulius, and restored his grandfather 
 Numitor, determined to quit Alba, the heredi- 
 tary domain of the Syhdan princes, and to 
 found a new city. The Gods, it was added, 
 vouchsafed the clearest signs of the favor with 
 which they regarded the enterprise, and of the 
 high destinies reserved for the young colony. 
 
 This event was likely to be a favorite theme 
 of the old Latin minstrels. They would natu- 
 rally attribute the project of Romulus to some 
 divine intimation of the power and prosperity 
 which it was decreed that his city should attain. 
 They would probably introduce seers foretelling
 
 t84 Xags of Bncient IRome 
 
 the victories of unborn consuls and dictators, 
 and the last great victory would generally 
 occupy the most conspicuous place in the pre- 
 diction. There is nothing strange in the sup- 
 position that the poet who was employed to 
 celebrate the first great triumph of the Romans 
 over the Greeks might throw his song of exul- 
 tation into this form. 
 
 The occasion was one likely to excite the 
 strongest feelings of national pride. A great 
 outrage had been followed by a great retribu- 
 tion. Seven years before this time, Lucius 
 Posthumius Megellus, who sprang from one of 
 the noblest houses of Rome, and had been 
 thrice consul, was sent ambassador to Taren- 
 tum, with charge to demand reparation for 
 grievous injuries. The Taren tines gave him 
 audience in their theatre, where he addressed 
 them in such Greek as he could command, 
 which, we may well believe, was not exactly 
 such as Cineas would have spoken. An ex- 
 quisite sense of the ridiculous belonged to the 
 Greek character ; and closely connected with 
 this faculty was a strong propensity to flippancy
 
 XLbc propbecs of Gapi^s 185 
 
 and impertinence. When Posthumius placed 
 an accent wrong, his hearers burst into a laugh. 
 When he remonstrated, they hooted him, and 
 called him barbarian ; and at length hissed him 
 off the stage as if he had been a bad actor. As 
 the grave Roman retired, a buffoon who, from 
 his constant drunkenness, was nicknamed the 
 Pint-pot, came up with gestures of the grossest 
 indecency, and bespattered the senatorial gown 
 with filth. Posthumius turned round to the 
 multitude, and held up the gown, as if appeal- 
 ing to the universal law of nations. The sight 
 only increased the insolence of the Taren- 
 tines. They clapped their hands, and set 
 up a shout of laughter which shook the the- 
 atre. "Men of Tarentum," said Posthumius, 
 "it wnll take not a little blood to wash this 
 gown." * 
 
 Rome, in consequence of this insult, declared 
 war against the Tarentines. The Tarentines 
 sought for allies beyond the Ionian Sea. Pyr- 
 rhus, king of Epirus, came to their help with a 
 large army ; and, for the first time, the two 
 * Dion. Hal. De Legationibus.
 
 i86 %ti^0 Of Bncient IRome 
 
 great nations of antiquity were fairly matched 
 against each other. 
 
 The fame of Greece in arms, as well as in 
 arts, was then at the height. Half a century 
 earlier, the career of Alexander had excited the 
 admiration and terror of all nations from the 
 Ganges to the Pillars of Hercules. Royal 
 houses, founded by Macedonian captains, still 
 reigned at Antioch and Alexandria. That bar- 
 barian warriors, led by barbarian chiefs, should 
 win a pitched battle against Greek valor guided 
 by Greek science, seemed as incredible as it 
 would now seem that the Burmese or the 
 Siamese should, in the open plain, put to flight 
 an equal number of the best English troops. 
 The Tarentines were convinced that their 
 countr5mien were irresistible in war ; and this 
 conviction had emboldened them to treat with 
 the grossest indignity one whom they regarded 
 as the representative of an inferior race. Of 
 the Greek generals then living, Pyrrhus was 
 indisputably the first. Among the troops who 
 were trained in the Greek discipline, his Epiro- 
 tes ranked high. His expedition to Italy was a
 
 tTbc ipropbec^ of Gap^s 
 
 187 
 
 turning-point in the historv^ of the world. He 
 found there a people who, far inferior to the 
 Athenians and Corinthians in the fine arts, in 
 the speculative sciences, and in all the refine- 
 ments of life, were the best soldiers on the face 
 
 of the earth. Their arms, their gradations of 
 rank, their order of battle, their method of in- 
 trenchment, were all of Latian origin, and had 
 all been gradually brought near to perfection, 
 not by the study of foreign models, but by the 
 genius and experience of many generations of
 
 t88 Xai^s of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 great native commanders. The first words 
 which broke from the king, when his practised 
 eye had surveyed the Roman encampment, 
 were full of meaning: "These barbarians," 
 he said, "have nothing barbarous in their 
 military arrangements." He was at first vic- 
 torious ; for his own talents were superior to 
 those of the captains who were opposed to 
 him ; and the Romans were not prepared for 
 the onset of the elephants of the East, which 
 were then for the first time seen in Italy — 
 moving mountains, with long snakes for 
 hands.* But the victories of the Epirotes 
 were fiercely disputed, dearly purchased, and 
 altogether unprofitable. At length, Manius 
 Curius Dentatus, who had in his first consul- 
 ship won two triumphs, was again placed at 
 the head of the Roman commonwealth, and 
 sent to encounter the invaders. A great battle 
 was fought near Beneventum. Pyrrhus was 
 completely defeated. He repassed the sea ; 
 and the world learned, with amazement, that a 
 
 * Anguimanus is the old L,atiii epithet for an elephant. 
 Lucretius, ii. 538, v. 1302.
 
 ZTbe propbecs of Cap^s 
 
 189 
 
 people had been discovered, who, iu fair fight- 
 ing, were superior to the best troops that had 
 been drilled in the system of Parmenio and 
 Antigonus. 
 
 The conquerors had a good right to exult in 
 their success ; for their glory was all their own. 
 They had not learned from their enemy how to 
 
 conquer him. It was with their own national 
 arms, and in their own national battle-array, 
 that they had overcome weapons and tactics 
 long believed to be invincible. The pilum and 
 the broadsword had vanquished the Macedo- 
 nian spear. The legion had broken the Mace- 
 donian phalanx. Even the elephants, when
 
 190 
 
 XaB0 of Undent IRome 
 
 the surprise produced by their first appearance 
 was over, could cause no disorder in the steady- 
 yet flexible battalions of 
 Rome. 
 
 It is said by Florus, and 
 may easily be believed, 
 that the triumph far sur- 
 passed in magnificence 
 any that Rome had pre- 
 viously seen. The only 
 spoils which Papirius Cur- 
 sor and Fabius Maximus 
 could exhibit were flocks 
 and herds, wagons of rude 
 structure, and heaps of 
 spears and helmets. But 
 now, for the first time, 
 the riches of Asia and the 
 arts of Greece adorned a 
 Roman pageant. Plate, 
 fine stuffs, costly furni- 
 ture, rare animals, exquisite paintings and 
 sculptures, formed part of the procession. At 
 the banquet would be assembled a crowd
 
 Zbc ipropbeci? of Cap^e lyi 
 
 of warriors and statesmen, among whom Ma- 
 nius Curius Dentatus would take the highest 
 room. Caius Fabricius, then, after two consul- 
 ships and two triumphs, Censor of the Com- 
 monwealth, would doubtless occupy a place of 
 honor at the board. In situations less con- 
 spicuous probably lay some of those who were, 
 a few years later, the terror of Carthage : 
 Caius Duilius, the founder of the maritime 
 greatness of his country ; Marcus Atilius Reg- 
 ulus, who owed to defeat a renown far higher 
 than that which he had derived from his vic- 
 tories ; and Caius I^utatius Catulus, who, while 
 suffering from a grievous wound, fought the 
 great battle of the Agates, and brought the first 
 Punic war to a triumphant close. It is impos- 
 sible to recount the names of these eminent 
 citizens, without reflecting that they were all, 
 without exception, plebeians, and would, but 
 for the ever-memorable struggle maintained by 
 Caius Licinius and Lucius Sextius, have been 
 doomed to hide in obscurity, or to waste in 
 civil broils, the capacity and energy which pre- 
 vailed against Pyrrhus and Hamilcar.
 
 192 %n\2e ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 On such a day we may suppose that the pa- 
 triotic enthusiasm of a Latin poet would vent 
 itself in reiterated shouts of lo iruimphc, such 
 as were uttered by Horace on a far less exciting 
 occasion, and in boasts resembling those which 
 Virgil put into the mouth of Anchises. The 
 superiority of some foreign nations, and espe- 
 cially of the Greeks, in the lazy arts of peace, 
 would be admitted with disdainful candor ; but 
 pre-eminence in all the qualities which fit a 
 people to subdue and govern mankind would 
 be claimed for the Romans. 
 
 The following lay belongs to the latest age of 
 Latin ballad-poetry. Nsevius and Livius An- 
 dronicus were probably among the children 
 whose mothers held them up to see the chariot 
 of Curius go by. The minstrel who sang on 
 that day might possibly have lived to read the 
 first hexameters of Ennius, and to see the first 
 comedies of Plautus. His poem, as might be 
 expected, shows a much wider acquaintance 
 with the geography, manners, and productions 
 of remote nations, than would have been found 
 in compositions of the age of Camillus. But he
 
 Zbc ipropbecg of Capi^e 
 
 193 
 
 troubles himself little about dates, and having 
 heard travellers talk with admiration of the Co- 
 lossus of Rhodes, and of the structures and gar- 
 dens v\-ith which the Macedonian kings of vSyria 
 had embellished their residence on the banks 
 of the Orontes, he had never thought of inquir- 
 ing whether those things existed in the age of 
 Romulus.
 
 THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 A I,AY SUNG AT THE BANQUET IN THE CAPITOI., 
 ON THE DAY WHEREON MANIUS CURIUS 
 DENTATUS, A SECOND TIME CONSUL, TRI- 
 UMPHED OVER KING PYRRHUS AND THE 
 TARENTINES, IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY 
 CCCCI^XXIX. 
 
 NOW slain is King Amulius, 
 Of the great Sylvian line, 
 Who reigned in Alba Longa, 
 On the throne of Aventine. 
 Slain is the Pontiff Gamers, 
 
 Who spake the words of doom : 
 " The children to the Tiber ; 
 The mother to the tomb."
 
 ^be propbecs of Capias 
 
 195 
 
 II. 
 
 In Alba's lake no fisher 
 
 His net to-day is flinging : 
 On the dark rind of Alba's oaks 
 
 To-day no axe is ringing : 
 The yoke hangs o'er the manger 
 
 The scythe lies in the hay : 
 Through all the Alban villages 
 
 No work is done to-day. 
 
 ni. 
 
 And every Alban burgher 
 
 Hath donned his whitest gown ; 
 And every head in Alba 
 
 Weareth a poplar crown ; 
 And every Alban door-post 
 
 With boughs and flowers is gay : 
 For to-day the dead are living ; 
 
 The lost are found to-day.
 
 196 
 
 Xag6 of Bncicnt IRomc 
 
 rv. 
 
 They were doomed by a bloody king : 
 
 They were doomed by a lying priest : 
 They were cast on the raging flood : 
 
 They were tracked by the raging beast 
 Raging beast and raging flood 
 
 Alike have spared the prey ; 
 And to-day the dead are living : 
 
 The lost are found to-day. 
 
 The troubled river knew them, 
 
 And smoothed his yellow foam, 
 And gently rocked the cradle 
 
 That bore the fate of Rome. 
 The ravening she-wolf knew them, 
 
 And licked them o'er and o'er, 
 And gave them of her own fierce milk, 
 
 Rich with raw flesh and gore.
 
 ^be ipropbec^ of Gap^s 197 
 
 Twenty winters, twenty springs, 
 Since then have rolled away ; 
 
 And to-day the dead are living : 
 The lost are found to-day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Blithe it was to see the twins, 
 
 Right goodly youths and tall, 
 Marching from Alba Longa 
 
 To their old grandsire's hall. 
 Along their path fresh garlands 
 
 Are hung from tree to tree ; 
 Before them stride the pipers. 
 
 Piping a note of glee. 
 
 On the right goes Romulus 
 
 With arms to the elbows red. 
 And in his hand a broadsword, 
 
 And on the blade a head — 
 A head in an iron helmet, 
 
 With horse-hair hanging down, 
 A shaggy head, a swarthy head. 
 
 Fixed in a ghastly frown — 
 The head of King Amulius 
 
 Of the great Sylvian line. 
 Who reigned in Alba Longa 
 
 On the throne of Aventine,
 
 '"'"^y^'t^^^'
 
 Zbc propbccs of Caps6 199 
 
 VIII. 
 
 On the left side goes Remus, 
 
 With wrists and fingers red, 
 And in his hands a boar-spear, 
 
 And on the point a head — 
 A wrinkled head and aged, 
 
 With silver beard and hair. 
 And holy fillets round it. 
 
 Such as the pontiffs wear — 
 The head of ancient Camers, 
 
 Who spake the words of doom 
 *' The children to the Tiber ; 
 
 The mother to the tomb." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Two and two behind the twins 
 
 Their trusty comrades go, 
 Four and forty valiant men, 
 
 With club, and axe, and bow. 
 On each side every hamlet 
 
 Pours forth its joyous crowd, 
 Shouting lads and baying dogs 
 
 And children laughing loud, 
 And old men weeping fondly 
 
 As Rhea's boys go by, 
 And maids who shriek to see the heads. 
 
 Yet, shrieking, press more nigh.
 
 200 
 
 Xag6 of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 So they marched along the lake ; 
 
 They marched by fold and stall, 
 By cornfield and by vineyard, 
 
 Unto the old man's hall. 
 
 In the hall-gate sat Capys, 
 Capys, the sightless seer ; 
 
 From head to foot he trembled 
 As Romulus drew near. 
 
 i^ 
 
 And up stood stiff his thin white hair. 
 And his blind eyes flashed fire : 
 
 "Hail ! foster child of the wondrous nurse ! 
 Hail ! son of the w^ondrous sire. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But thou — what dost thou do here 
 In the old man's peaceful hall ?
 
 Cbe iC>ropbcc^ of Cap^B 
 
 20I 
 
 WHiat doth the eagle iu the coop, 
 
 The bison in the stall ? 
 Our com fills many a garner ; 
 
 Our vines clasp many a tree ; 
 Our flocks are white on many a hill ; 
 
 But these are not for thee. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " For thee no treasure ripens 
 
 In the Tartessian mine : 
 For thee no ship brings precious bales 
 
 Across the Libyan brine ; 
 
 
 ;._a::^ 
 
 Thou shalt not drink from amber : 
 Thou shalt not rest on down ; 
 
 Arabia shall not steep thy locks, 
 Nor Sidon tinge thy gown. 
 
 xrv. 
 Leave gold and myrrh and jewels, 
 Rich table and soft bed,
 
 202 Xa^0 ot Bncfcnt IRome 
 
 To tliem who of man's seed are born, 
 
 Whom woman's milk hath fed. 
 Thou wast not made for lucre, 
 
 For pleasure, nor for rest ; 
 Thou, that art sprung from the War-god's loins 
 
 And hast tugged at the she-wolf's breast. 
 
 XV. 
 
 From sunrise unto sunset 
 All earth shall hear thy fame 
 
 ...^-i^^e^A:: 
 
 A glorious city thou shalt build, 
 And name it by thy name : 
 
 And there, unquenched through ages, 
 Like Vesta's sacred fire, 
 
 Shall live the spirit of thy nurse, 
 The spirit of thy sire.
 
 trbe ipropbec^ of Capgs 203 
 
 "The ox toils through the furrow, 
 
 Obedient to the goad ; 
 The patient ass, up flinty paths, 
 
 Plods with his w^eary load : 
 With whine and bound the spaniel 
 
 His master's whistle hears ; 
 And the sheep yields her patiently 
 
 To the loud-clashing shears. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 '* But thy nurse will hear no master ; 
 
 Thy nurse will bear no load ; 
 And woe to them that shear her, 
 
 And woe to them that goad ! 
 When all the pack, loud baying, 
 
 Her bloody lair surrounds, 
 She dies in silence, biting hard. 
 
 Amidst the dvingf hounds. 
 
 "Pomona loves the orchard ; 
 
 And Liber loves the vine ; 
 And Pales loves the straw-built shed 
 
 Warm with the breath of kine ; 
 And Venus loves the whispers 
 
 Of plighted youth and maid,
 
 204 
 
 Xa^s of Bnclent IRome 
 
 In April's ivory moonlight 
 Beneath the chestnut shade. 
 
 " But thy father loves the 
 clashing 
 Of broadsword and of 
 shield ; 
 He loves to drink the 
 steam that reeks 
 From the fresh battle- 
 field ; 
 He smiles a smile more 
 dreadful 
 Than his own dreadful 
 frown, 
 When he sees the thick 
 black cloud of smoke 
 Go up from the con- 
 quered town. 

 
 trbe ipropbec^ of Gapi^s 205 
 
 "And such as is the War-god, 
 
 The author of thy line, 
 And such as she who suckled thee, 
 
 Kven such be thou and thine, 
 Leave to the soft Campanian 
 
 His baths and his perfumes ; 
 Leave to the sordid race of Tyre 
 
 Their dyeing-vats and looms ; 
 Leave to the sons of Carthage 
 
 The rudder and the oar ; 
 Leave to the Greek his marble nymphs 
 
 And scrolls of wordy lore. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 ** Thine, Roman, is the pilum ; 
 
 Roman, the sword is thine. 
 The even trench, the bristling mound, 
 
 The legion's ordered line ; 
 And thine the wheels of triumph, 
 
 Which with their laurelled train 
 Move slowly up the shouting streets 
 
 To Jove's eternal fane. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " Beneath thy yoke the Volscian 
 Shall veil his loftv brow ;
 
 2o6 
 
 Xaiss ot Bncicnt IRome 
 
 Soft Capua's curled revellers 
 Before thy chairs shall bow ; 
 
 The Lucumoes of Arnus 
 
 Shall quake thy rods to see ; 
 
 And the proud Samuite's heart of steel 
 Shall yield to only thee. 
 
 ** The Gaul shall come against thee 
 From the land of snow and night ; 
 
 Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies 
 To the raven and the kite. 
 
 ** The Greek shall come against thee, 
 
 The conqueror of the Bast. 
 Beside him stalks to battle 
 
 The huge earth-shaking beast, 
 The beast on whom the castle 
 
 With all its guards doth stand, 
 The beast who hath between his eyes 
 
 The serpent for a hand.
 
 ^be ipropbecB of Capgs 207 
 
 First march the bold Epirotes, 
 
 Wedged close with shield and spear ; 
 
 And the ranks of false Tarentum 
 Are glittering in the rear. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 *' The ranks of false Tarentum 
 
 Like hunted sheep shall fly ; 
 In vain the bold Epirotes 
 
 Shall round their standards die ; 
 And Apennine's gray vultures 
 
 Shall have a noble feast 
 On the fat and the eyes 
 
 Of the huge earth-shaking beast. 
 
 :iiM.Z^'^^m^Cn4^ ^^^^.a^::.^.-W^ i 
 
 " Hurrah ! for the good weapons 
 
 That keep the War-god's land. 
 Hurrah ! for Rome's stout pilum 
 
 In a stout Roman hand. 
 Hurrah ! for Rome's short broadsword, 
 
 That through the thick array 
 Of levelled spears and serried shields 
 
 Hews deep its gory way.
 
 2o8 Xas6 of Bncicnt IRome 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " Hurrah ! for the great triumph 
 
 That vStretches many a mile. 
 Hurrah ! for the wan captives 
 
 That pass in endless file. 
 Ho ! bold Bpirotes, whither 
 
 Hath the Red King ta'en flight? 
 Ho ! dogs of false Tarentum, 
 
 Is not the gown washed white ? 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Hurrah ! for the great triumph 
 
 That stretches many a mile. 
 Hurrah ! for the rich dye of Tyre, 
 
 And the fine web of Nile, 
 The helmets gay with plumage 
 
 Torn from the pheasant's wings, 
 The belts set thick with starry gems 
 
 That shone on Indian kings
 
 Zbc ipropbccs of Capias 209 
 
 The urns of massy silver, 
 
 The goblets rough with gold, 
 The many-colored tablets bright 
 
 With loves and wars of old, 
 The stone that breathes and struggles, 
 
 The brass that seems to speak ; 
 Such cunning they who dwell on high 
 
 Have given unto the Greek. 
 
 "Hurrah ! for Manius Curius, 
 
 The bravest son of Rome, 
 Thrice in utmost need sent forth, 
 
 Thrice drawn in triumph home. 
 Weave, weave, for Manius Curius 
 
 The third embroidered gown : 
 Make ready the third lofty car. 
 
 And tw^ne the third green crown ; 
 And yoke the steeds of Rosea 
 
 With necks like a bended bow. 
 And deck the bull, Mevania's bull, 
 
 The bull as white as snow. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "Blest and thrice blest the Roman 
 Who sees Rome's brightest day, 
 
 Who sees that long victorious pomp 
 Wind down the Sacred Way,
 
 tibc ipropbecs ot Capgs 
 
 And through the bellowing Forum, 
 And round the vSuppliant's Grove, 
 
 Up to the everlasting gates. 
 Of Capitolian Jove. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 ** Then where, o'er two bright havens. 
 
 The towers of Corinth frown ; 
 Where the gigantic King of Day 
 
 On his own Rhodes looks down ; 
 Where soft Orontes murmurs 
 
 Beneath the laurel shades ; 
 Where Nile reflects the endless length 
 
 Of dark-red colonnades ; 
 Where in the still deep water, 
 
 Sheltered from waves and blasts, 
 Bristles the dusky forest 
 
 Of Byrsa's thousand masts ; 
 Where fur-clad hunters wander 
 
 Amidst the northern ice ; 
 Where through the sand of morning-land 
 
 The camel bears the spice ; 
 Where Atlas flings his shadow 
 
 Far o'er the western foam, 
 Shall be great fear on all who hear 
 
 The mighty name of Rome."
 
 4^-- 
 
 ^■^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 -fil 
 
 u 
 
 % 
 
 r:
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 IVRY. 
 
 NOW glorv' to the Lord of Hosts, from whom 
 all glories are ! 
 And glor}' to om- Sovereign Liege, King Henry 
 
 of Navarre ! 
 Now let there be the merry sound of music and 
 
 of dance, 
 Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, 
 
 O pleasant land of France ! 
 And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud 
 
 city of the waters, 
 Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy 
 
 mourning daughters. 
 As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in 
 
 our joy, 
 For cold, and stiff, and still are they who 
 
 wrought thy walls annoy. 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned 
 
 the chance of war. 
 Hurrah ! hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Na-
 
 2i6 /ibiscellancoug ipoems 
 
 Oh ! how our hearts were beating, when at 
 
 the dawn of day, 
 We saw the army of the League drawn out in 
 
 long array ; 
 With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel 
 
 peers, 
 And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's 
 
 Flemish spears. 
 There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the 
 
 curses of our land ; 
 And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a trun- 
 cheon in his hand : 
 And, as we looked on them, we thought of 
 
 Seine's empurpled flood, 
 And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with 
 
 his blood ; 
 And we cried unto the living God, who rules 
 
 the fate of war, 
 To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of 
 
 Navarre. 
 
 The King is come to marshal us, in all his 
 
 armor drest, 
 And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his 
 
 gallant crest. 
 He looked upon his people, and a tear was in 
 
 his eye ; 
 He looked upon the traitors, and his glance 
 
 was stern and high.
 
 ITvr^ 217 
 
 Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled 
 
 from wing to wing, 
 Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God 
 
 save our Lord the King ! " 
 "And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well 
 
 he may. 
 For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody 
 
 fray. 
 Press where ye see my white plume shine, 
 
 amidst the ranks of war. 
 And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of 
 
 Navarre." 
 
 Hurrah ! the foes are moving. Hark to the 
 
 mingled din 
 Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and 
 
 roaring culverin. 
 The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint 
 
 Andre's plain. 
 With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and 
 
 Almayne. 
 Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen 
 
 of France, 
 Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with 
 
 the lance. 
 A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand 
 
 spears in rest, 
 A thousand knights are pressing close behind 
 
 the snow-white crest :
 
 2i8 /Ibiscellancous iC>oem6 
 
 And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, 
 
 like a guiding star. 
 Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet 
 
 of Navarre. 
 
 Now, God be praised, the day is ours. May- 
 
 enne hath turned his rein. 
 D'Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish 
 
 count is slain. 
 Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before 
 
 a Biscay gale ; 
 The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and 
 
 flags, and cloven mail. 
 And then we thought on vengeance, and, all 
 
 along our van, 
 "Remember St. Bartholomew," was passed 
 
 from man to man. 
 But out spake gentle Henry : " No Frenchman 
 
 is my foe : 
 Down, down with every foreigner, but let your 
 
 brethren go." 
 Oh ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship 
 
 or in war. 
 As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the soldier 
 
 of Navarre ? 
 
 Right well fought all the Frenchmen who 
 fought for France to-day ; 
 And many a lordly banner God gave them for a 
 prey.
 
 Hvv^ 219 
 
 But we of the religion have borne us best in 
 
 fight; 
 And the good lyord of Rosny hath ta'en the 
 
 cornet white. 
 Our own true Maximilian the cornet white hath 
 
 ta'en, 
 The cornet white with crosses black, the flag of 
 
 false Lorraine. 
 Up with it high ; unfurl it wide ; that all the 
 
 host may know 
 How God hath humbled the proud house which 
 
 wrought his church such woe. 
 Then on the ground, while trumpets sound their 
 
 loudest point of war, 
 Fling the red shreds, a footcloth neat for Henry 
 
 of Navarre. 
 
 Ho ! maidens of Vienna ; Ho ! matrons of 
 Lucerne ; 
 
 Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who 
 never shall return. 
 
 Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pis- 
 toles, 
 
 That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy 
 poor spearmen's souls. 
 
 Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that 
 your arms be bright ; 
 
 Ho ! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch 
 and ward to-night.
 
 220 /iftiscellaneous ipoems 
 
 For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God 
 
 hath raised the slave, 
 And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the 
 
 valor of the brave. 
 Then glory to his holy name, from whom all 
 
 glories are ; 
 And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry 
 
 of Navarre. 
 
 ^f^
 
 THE ARMADA. 
 
 ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble 
 England's praise; 
 I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in 
 
 ancient days, 
 When that great fleet invincible against her 
 
 bore in vain 
 The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts 
 of Spain. 
 
 It was about the lovely close of a warm sum- 
 mer day, 
 
 There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to 
 Plymouth Bay ; 
 
 Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond 
 Aurigny's isle, 
 
 At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving 
 many a mile. 
 
 At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's es- 
 pecial grace ; 
 
 And the tall Pinta, till the noon had held her 
 close in chase.
 
 222 /Hbi6cellaneou6 poema 
 
 Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed 
 
 along the wall ; 
 The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edge- 
 
 cumbe's lofty hall ; 
 Many a light fishing bark put out to pry along 
 
 the coast, 
 And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland 
 
 many a post. 
 With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old 
 
 sheriff comes ; 
 Behind him march the halberdiers ; before him 
 
 sound the drums ; 
 His yeomen round the market cross make clear 
 
 an ample space ; 
 For there behooves him to set up the standard 
 
 of Her Grace. 
 And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gayly 
 
 dance the bells. 
 As slow upon the laboring wind the royal blazon 
 
 swells, 
 Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient 
 
 crowm, 
 And underneath his deadly paw treads the ga}- 
 
 lilies down. 
 So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that 
 
 famed Picard field, 
 Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cesar's 
 
 eagle shield. 
 So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he 
 
 turned to bay,
 
 ^be BrmaDa 223 
 
 And crushed and torn beneath his claws the 
 
 princely hunters lay. 
 Ho ! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight : ho ! 
 
 scatter flowers, fair maids : 
 Ho ! gunners, fire a loud salute : ho ! gallants, 
 
 draw your blades : 
 Thou sun, shine on her joyously ; ye breezes, 
 
 waft her wide ; [pride. 
 
 Our glorious semper Eadem, the banner of our 
 
 The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that 
 
 banner's massy fold ; 
 The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that 
 
 haughty scroll of gold ; 
 Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the 
 
 purple sea, 
 Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er 
 
 again shall be. 
 From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn 
 
 to Milford Bay, 
 That time of slumber was as bright and busy as 
 
 the day ; 
 For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly 
 
 war-flame spread, 
 High on St. Michael's Mount it shone : it shone 
 
 on Beachy Head. 
 Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each 
 
 southern shire, 
 Cape beyond cape, in endless range those 
 
 twinkling points of fire.
 
 224 /Ifti9cellaneou0 ipoems 
 
 The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glit- 
 tering waves : 
 
 The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's 
 sunless caves : 
 
 O'er Ivongleat's towers, o'er Cran bourne's oaks, 
 the fiery herald flew : 
 
 He roused the shepherds of vStonehenge, the 
 rangers of Beaulieu. 
 
 Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang 
 out from Bristol town, 
 
 And ere the day three hundred horse had met 
 on Clifton down ; 
 
 The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth 
 into the night, 
 
 And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak 
 of blood-red light. 
 
 Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death- 
 like silence broke. 
 
 And with one start, and with one cr)-, the royal 
 city woke. 
 
 At once on all her stately gates arose the an- 
 swering fires ; 
 
 At once the wild alarum clashed from all her 
 reeling spires ; 
 
 From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud 
 the voice of fear ; 
 
 And all the thousand masts of Thames sent 
 back a louder cheer : 
 
 And from the farthest wards was heard the rush 
 of hurrying feet,
 
 trbe BrmaDa 225 
 
 And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed 
 
 down each roaring street ; 
 And broader still became the blaze, and louder 
 
 still the din, 
 As fast from every village round the horse came 
 
 spurring in : 
 And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the 
 
 warlike errand went, 
 And roused in man}- an ancient hall the gallant 
 
 squires of Kent. 
 Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those 
 
 bright couriers forth ; 
 High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they 
 
 started for the north ; 
 And on, and on, without a pause, untired they 
 
 bounded still : 
 All night from tower to tower they sprang ; 
 
 they sprang from hill to hill : 
 Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Dar- 
 win's rocky dales, 
 Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy 
 
 hills of Wales, 
 Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Mal- 
 vern's lonely height. 
 Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrek- 
 
 in's crest of light. 
 Till broad and fierce the stars came forth on 
 
 Ely's stately fane. 
 And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the 
 
 boundless plain ;
 
 226 /Ilbl0cellancou0 pocme 
 
 Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln 
 
 sent, 
 And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide 
 
 vale of Trent ; 
 Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's 
 
 embattled pile, 
 And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the 
 
 burghers of Carlisle, 
 ^fr -x- * * * * 
 
 1832. 
 
 A 

 
 A RADICAL WAR-SONG (1820). 
 
 AWAKE, arise, the hour is come, 
 For rows and revolutions ; 
 There 's no receipt like pike and drum 
 
 For crazy constitutions. 
 Close, close the shop ! Break, break the loom ! 
 
 Desert your hearths and furrows, 
 And throng in arms to seal the doom 
 Of England's rotten boroughs. 
 
 We '11 stretch that tort' ring Castlereagh 
 
 On his own Dublin rack, sir ; 
 We '11 drown the King in Eau de vie, 
 
 The Laureate in his sack, sir. 
 Old Eldon and his sordid hag 
 
 In molten gold we '11 smother, 
 And stifle in his own green bag 
 
 The Doctor and his brother. 
 
 In chains we '11 hang in fair Guildhall 
 The City's famed Recorder,
 
 228 ^iecellancous ipoemg 
 
 And next on proud St. vStephen's fall, 
 Though Wynne should squeak to order. 
 
 In vain our tyrants then shall try 
 To 'scape our martial law, .sir ; 
 
 In vain the trembling vSpeaker cry 
 That *' Strangers must withdraw," sir. 
 
 Copley to hang offends no text ; 
 
 A rat is not a man, sir ; 
 With schedules and with tax bills next 
 
 We '11 bury pious Van, sir. 
 The slaves who loved the Income Tax, 
 
 We '11 crush by scores, like mites, sir. 
 And him, the wretch who freed the blacks, 
 
 And more enslaved the whites, sir. 
 
 The peer shall dangle from his gate 
 
 The bishop from his steeple, 
 Till all recanting, own, the State 
 
 Means nothing but the People. 
 We '11 fix the church's revenues 
 
 On Apostolic basis, — 
 One coat, one scrip, one pair of shoes, 
 
 Shall pay their strange grimaces. 
 
 We '11 strap the bar's deluding train 
 
 In their own darling halter. 
 And with his big church bible brain 
 
 The parson at the altar.
 
 a IRaDical Taaar-SonG 229 
 
 Hail ! gloriour hour, when fair Refonu 
 Shall bless our longing nation, 
 
 And Hunt receive commands to form 
 A new administration. 
 
 Carlisle shall sit enthroned where sat 
 
 Our Cranmer and our Seeker, 
 And Watson show his snow-white hat 
 
 In England's rich Exchequer. 
 The breast of Thistlewood shall wear 
 
 Our Wellesley's star and sash, man. 
 And many a mausoleum fair 
 
 Shall rise to honest Cashman. 
 
 Then, then beneath the nine-tailed cat 
 
 Shall they who used it writhe, sir ; 
 And curates lean and rectors fat 
 
 Shall dig the ground they tithe, sir ; 
 Down with your Bayleys and your Bests, 
 
 Your Giflfords and your Gumeys : 
 We '11 clear the island of the pests, 
 
 Which mortals name attorneys. 
 
 Down with your sheriffs and your mayors. 
 
 Your registrars and proctors. 
 We '11 live without the lawyer's cares, 
 
 And die without the doctor's. 
 No discontented fair shall pout 
 
 To see her spouse so stupid ;
 
 230 /nbiecellaneoue poems 
 
 We '11 tread the torch of Hymen out, 
 And live content with Cupid. 
 
 Then when the high-born and the great 
 
 Are humbled to our level, 
 On all the wealth of Church and State, 
 
 Like aldermen we *11 revel. 
 We '11 live, when hushed the battle's din, 
 
 In smoking and in cards, sir, 
 In drinking unexcised gin. 
 
 And wooing fair Poissardes, sir.
 
 THE BATTLE OF MONCONTOUR (1824). 
 
 O 
 
 H ! weep for Moucontour ! Oh ! weep for 
 the hour 
 When the children of darkness and evil had 
 
 power, 
 When the horsemen of Valois triumphantly 
 
 trod 
 On the bosoms that bled for their rights and 
 their God ! 
 
 Oh ! weep for Moncontour ! Oh ! weep for the 
 
 slain, 
 Who for faith and for freedom lay slaughtered 
 
 in vain ; 
 O, weep for the living, who linger to bear 
 The renegade's shame, or the exile's despair ! 
 
 One look, one last look, to our cots and our 
 
 towers. 
 To the rows of our vines, and the beds of our 
 
 flowers.
 
 232 /ifcisccllaneous poems 
 
 To the church where the bones of our fathers 
 
 decayed, 
 Where we fondly had deemed that our own 
 
 would be laid. 
 
 Alas ! we must leave thee, dear desolate home. 
 To the spearmen of Uri, the shavelings of Rome, 
 To the serpent of Florence, the vulture of Spain, 
 To the pride of Anjou, and the guile of Lorraine, 
 
 Farewell to thy fountains, farewell to thy 
 
 shades, 
 To the song of thy youths, and the dance of 
 
 thy maids, 
 To the breath of thy gardens, the hum of thy 
 
 bees, 
 And the long waving line of the blue Pyrenees. 
 
 Farewell and forever. The priest and the slave 
 May rule in the halls of the free and the brave. 
 Our hearths we abandon ; our lands we resign ; 
 But, Father, we kneel to no altar but thine.
 
 SONGS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 THE BATTI^E OF XASEBY, BY OBADIAH BIND- 
 THEIR - KINGS - IN - CHAINS - AND - THEIR- 
 NOBI.es - T\T[TH - THINKS - OF - IRON, SER- 
 JEANT IN IRETON'S REGIMENT. 
 
 (1824.) 
 
 OH ! wherefore came ye forth, in triumph 
 from the North, 
 With your hands, and your feet, and your 
 raiment all red ? 
 And wherefore doth your rout send forth a 
 joyous shout? 
 And whence be the grapes of the wine-press 
 which ye tread ? 
 
 Oh ! e\41 was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 
 And crimson was the juice of the vintage that 
 we trod ; 
 For we trampled on the throng of the haughty 
 and the strong, 
 Who sate in the high places, and slew the 
 saints of God.
 
 234 /Ilbiscellaneous I0oem6 
 
 It was about tlie noon of a glorious day in June, 
 That we saw their banners dance, and their 
 cuirasses shine ; 
 And the Man of Blood was there, with his long 
 essenced hair, 
 And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert 
 of the Rhine. 
 
 Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and 
 his sword, 
 The General rode along us to form us to the 
 fight, 
 When a murmuring sound broke out, and 
 swelled into a shout, 
 Among the godless horsemen upon the 
 tyrant's right. 
 
 And hark ! like the roar of the billows on the 
 shore, 
 The cry of battle rises along their charging 
 line ! 
 For God ! for the Cause ! for the Church ! for 
 the Laws ! 
 For Charles King of England, and Rupert of 
 the Rhine ! 
 
 The furious German comes, with his clarions 
 and his drums,
 
 Boms ot tbe Civil War 235 
 
 His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of White- 
 hall ; 
 They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp ^-our 
 pikes, close your ranks ; 
 
 For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to 
 fall. 
 
 They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! 
 We are gone ! 
 Our left is borne before them like stubble on 
 the blast. 
 O I^ord, put forth thy might ! O Lord, defend 
 the right ! 
 Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight 
 it to the last. 
 
 Stout Skippon hath a wound ; the centre hath 
 given ground : 
 Hark ! hark ! What means the trampling of 
 horsemen on our rear ? 
 Whose banner do I see, boys ? 'T is he, thank 
 God, 't is he, boys. 
 Bear up another minute : brave Oliver is 
 here. 
 
 Their heads all stooping low, their points all in 
 a row, 
 I/ike a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge 
 on the dykes,
 
 236 /Ilbl0cellancou6 poems 
 
 Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the 
 Accurst, 
 And at a shock have scattered the forest of 
 his pikes. 
 
 Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook 
 to hide 
 Their coward heads, predestined to rot on 
 Temple Bar ; 
 And he — he turns, he flies : — shame on those 
 cruel eyes 
 That bore to look on torture, and dare not look 
 on war. 
 
 Ho ! comrades scour the plain, and ere ye strip 
 the slain. 
 First give another stab to make your search 
 secure. 
 Then shake from sleeves and pockets their 
 broad pieces and lockets. 
 The token of the wanton, the plunder of the 
 poor. 
 
 Fools ! your doublets shone with gold, and 
 your hearts were gay and bold. 
 When you kissed your lily hands to your 
 lemans to-day ; 
 
 And to-morrow shall the fox, from her chambers 
 in the rocks.
 
 Sottas ot tbe Civil lUar 237 
 
 Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the 
 prey. 
 
 Where be your tongues that late mocked at 
 heaven and hell and fate, 
 And the fingers that once were so busy with 
 your blades, 
 Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches and 
 your oaths. 
 Your stage plays and your sonnets, your dia- 
 monds and your spades ? 
 
 Down, down, forever down with the mitre and 
 the crown. 
 With the Belial of the Court, and the Mammon 
 of the Pope ; 
 There is woe in Oxford Halls ; there is wail in 
 Durham's Stalls ; 
 The Jesuit smites his bosom ; the Bishop 
 rends his cope. 
 
 And She of the seven hills shall mourn her 
 children's ills. 
 And tremble when she thinks on the edge of 
 England's sword ; 
 And the Kings of earth in fear shall shudder 
 when they hear 
 What the hand of God hath wrought for the 
 Houses and the Word.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL JBRARY FAClLiTY 
 
 B 000 003 050 2
 
 
 £5| 
 
 iwm