Then out spoke brave Horatius, the Captain of the gate: In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three. 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." "Horatius," quoth the Consul," as thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless Three. Soon all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless Three. But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied, Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack. But, with a crash like thunder, fell every loosened beam, And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, and tossed his tawny mane, And battlement, and plank, and pier, whirled headlong to the sea. Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind; Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see; 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!" No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank; But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges they saw his crest appear, Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer. But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain: Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing-place : "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 Porsěna, "and bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before." And now he feels the bottom; now on dry earth he stands; 27. THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE, 1645. — Aytoun. There is no ingredient of fiction in the historical incidents recorded in the following ballad. The perfect serenity of Montrose, the "Great Marquis," as he was called, in the hour of trial and death, the courage and magnanimity which he displayed to the last, - have been dwelt upon, with admiration, by writers of every class. The following has been slightly abridged from the original. COME hither, Evan Cameron; come, stand beside my knee, I hear the river roaring down towards the wintry sea. There's shouting on the mountain-side, there's war within the blast: Old faces look upon me, old forms go trooping past. -- I hear the pibroch wailing amidst the din of fight, And my dim spirit wakes again, upon the verge of night. 'Twas I that led the Highland host through wild Lochaber's snows, A traitor sold him to his foes; — O, deed of deathless shame! renown; Remember of what blood thou art, and strike the caitiff down! They brought him to the Watergate, hard bound with hempen span, The rabble rout forbore to shout, and each man held his breath; Had I been there, with sword in hand, and fifty Camerons by, 66 Now, by my faith as belted knight, and by the name I bear, And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross that waves above us there, — Yea, by a greater, mightier oath, and O, that such should be! By that dark stream of royal blood that lies 'twixt you and me, I have not sought in battle-field a wreath of such renown, Nor hoped I on my dying day to win the martyr's crown! "There is a chamber far away where sleep the good and brave, But a better place ye 've named for me than by my fathers' grave. For truth and right, 'gainst treason's might, this hand hath always striven, And ye raise it up for a witness still in the eye of earth and Heaven. The morning dawned full darkly; like a bridegroom from his room, Then radiant and serene he stood, and cast his cloak away He mounted up the scaffold, and he turned him to the crowd; But they dared not trust the people, - so he might not speak aloud. But he looked upon the Heavens, and they were clear and blue, And in the liquid ether the eye of God shone through : A beam of light fell o'er him, like a glory round the shriven, There was another heavy sound, a hush, and then a groan; And darkness swept across the sky, the work of death was done! 28. PEACE AND WAR. - Percy Bysshe Shelley. Born, 1792; died, 1828. How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh Heaven's ebon vault, Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, A metaphor of peace; all form a scene Ah! whence yon glare that dark red smoke Blotting the silver moon? The stars are quenched Inebriate with rage!· Loud and more loud The discord grows; till pale Death shuts the scene, The sulphurous smoke Before the icy wind slow rolls away, And the bright beams of frosty morning dance Along the spangling snow. There tracks of blood, Even to the forest's depth, and scattered arms, And lifeless warriors, whose hard lineaments Death's self could change not, mark the dreadful path Black ashes note where their proud city stood. Within yon forest is a gloomy glen; Each tree which guards its darkness from the day 29 AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN. — Washington Allston. Born, 1779; died, 1843. ALL hail thou noble land, Our fathers' native soil! O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore; For thou, with magic might, Canst reach to where the light The world o'er ! The Genius of our clime, From his pine-embattled steep, While the Tritons of the deep With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim. O'er the main our naval line, Like the milky way, shall shine Though ages long have passed Since our fathers left their home, Their pilot in the blast, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins ! And shall we not proclaim That blood of honest fame, ? |