{"id":44786,"date":"2014-12-13T23:00:13","date_gmt":"2014-12-14T05:00:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artofmanliness.com\/?p=44786"},"modified":"2021-09-26T10:06:39","modified_gmt":"2021-09-26T15:06:39","slug":"manvotional-horatius-at-the-bridge","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/character\/manhood\/manvotional-horatius-at-the-bridge\/","title":{"rendered":"Manvotional: Horatius at the Bridge"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Horatius<\/p>\n

Editors’ note: <\/em>While serving the English government in India during the 1830s, politician, poet, and historian Thomas Babington Macaulay spun semi-mythical ancient Roman tales into memorable ballads or \u201clays.\u201d His most famous lay was \u201cHoratius,\u201d a ballad that recounted the legendary courage of an ancient Roman army officer, Publius Horatius Cocles. In the fifth century <\/em>B.C., Rome rebelled against Etruscan rule and ousted their last king, Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, to form a republic. But the king refused to go quietly into the night; he enlisted the help of Lars Porsena of Clusium in an attempt overthrow the new Roman government and re-establish his reign.<\/em><\/p>\n

In a battle against the approaching Etruscans, the Roman army faced defeat and began to retreat across the bridge which traversed the Tiber River; this is where we\u2019ll let the poem pick up the heroic tale.<\/em><\/p>\n

As we mentioned this week in a post about Winston Churchill’s moral code<\/a>, this was one of the statesman’s favorite poems. He memorized all 70 stanzas as a boy to inspire himself to develop courage, and would recite the poem throughout his life. Because the “lay” is so long, we’ve offered a condensed version below. For the full ballad, see here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n

“Horatius”<\/strong>
\nFrom Lays of Ancient Rome<\/em>, 1842<\/strong>
\nBy Thomas Babington Macaulay<\/strong><\/p>\n

To eastward and to westward
\nHave spread the Tuscan bands,
\nNor house, nor fence, nor dovecote
\nIn Crustumerium stands.
\nVerbenna down to Ostia
\nHath wasted all the plain;
\nAstur hath stormed Janiculum,
\nAnd the stout guards are slain.<\/p>\n

I wis, in all the Senate
\nThere was no heart so bold
\nBut sore it ached, and fast it beat,
\nWhen that ill news was told.
\nForthwith up rose the Consul,
\nUp rose the Fathers all;
\nIn haste they girded up their gowns,
\nAnd hied them to the wall.<\/p>\n

They held a council, standing
\nBefore the River-gate;
\nShort time was there, ye well may guess,
\nFor musing or debate.
\nOut spake the Consul roundly:
\n\u201cThe bridge must straight go down;
\nFor, since Janiculum is lost,
\nNaught else can save the town.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just then a scout came flying,
\nAll wild with haste and fear:
\n“To arms! to arms! Sir Consul, \u2014
\nLars Porsena is here.”
\nOn the low hills to westward
\nThe Consul fixed his eye,
\nAnd saw the swarthy storm of dust
\nRise fast along the sky.<\/p>\n

And nearer fast and nearer
\nDoth the red whirlwind come;
\nAnd louder still and still more loud,
\nFrom underneath that rolling cloud,
\nIs heard the trumpet\u2019s war-note proud,
\nThe trampling, and the hum.
\nAnd plainly and more plainly
\nNow through the gloom appears,
\nFar to left and far to right,
\nIn broken gleams of dark-blue light,
\nThe long array of helmets bright,
\nThe long array of spears.<\/p>\n

Fast by the royal standard,
\nO\u2019erlooking all the war,
\nLars Porsena of Clusium
\nSat in his ivory car.
\nBy the right wheel rode Mamilius,
\nPrince of the Latian name;
\nAnd by the left false Sextus,
\nThat wrought the deed of shame.<\/p>\n

But when the face of Sextus
\nWas seen among the foes,
\nA yell that rent the firmament
\nFrom all the town arose.
\nOn the house-tops was no woman
\nBut spat towards him and hissed;
\nNo child but screamed out curses,
\nAnd shook its little fist.<\/p>\n

But the Consul\u2019s brow was sad,
\nAnd the Consul\u2019s speech was low,
\nAnd darkly looked he at the wall,
\nAnd darkly at the foe.
\n\u201cTheir van will be upon us
\nBefore the bridge goes down;
\nAnd if they once may win the bridge,
\nWhat hope to save the town?\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Peoples<\/p>\n

Then out spake brave Horatius,
\nThe Captain of the Gate:
\n\u201cTo every man upon this earth
\nDeath cometh soon or late.
\nAnd how can man die better
\nThan facing fearful odds,
\nFor the ashes of his fathers,
\nAnd the temples of his gods,<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd for the tender mother
\nWho dandled him to rest,
\nAnd for the wife who nurses
\nHis baby at her breast,
\nAnd for the holy maidens
\nWho feed the eternal flame,
\nTo save them from false Sextus
\nThat wrought the deed of shame?<\/p>\n

\u201cHaul down the bridge, Sir Consul,
\nWith all the speed ye may;
\nI, with two more to help me,
\nWill hold the foe in play.
\nIn yon strait path a thousand
\nMay well be stopped by three.
\nNow who will stand on either hand,
\nAnd keep the bridge with me?\u201d<\/p>\n

Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
\nA Ramnian proud was he:
\n\u201cLo, I will stand at thy right hand,
\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\u201d
\nAnd out spake strong Herminius;
\nOf Titian blood was he:
\n\u201cI will abide on thy left side,
\nAnd keep the bridge with thee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoratius,\u201d quoth the Consul,
\n\u201cAs thou sayest, so let it be.\u201d
\nAnd straight against that great array
\nForth went the dauntless Three.
\nFor Romans in Rome\u2019s quarrel
\nSpared neither land nor gold,
\nNor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n

Now while the Three were tightening
\nTheir harness on their backs,
\nThe Consul was the foremost man
\nTo take in hand an axe:
\nAnd Fathers mixed with Commons
\nSeized hatchet, bar, and crow,
\nAnd smote upon the planks above,
\nAnd loosed the props below.<\/p>\n

Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
\nRight glorious to behold,
\nCome flashing back the noonday light,
\nRank behind rank, like surges bright
\nOf a broad sea of gold.
\nFour hundred trumpets sounded
\nA peal of warlike glee,
\nAs that great host, with measured tread,
\nAnd spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
\nRolled slowly towards the bridge\u2019s head,
\nWhere stood the dauntless Three.<\/p>\n

\"Three<\/p>\n

The Three stood calm and silent,
\nAnd looked upon the foes,
\nAnd a great shout of laughter
\nFrom all the vanguard rose:
\nAnd forth three chiefs came spurring
\nBefore that deep array;
\nTo earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
\nAnd lifted high their shields, and flew
\nTo win the narrow way;<\/p>\n

Aunus from green Tifernum,
\nLord of the Hill of Vines;
\nAnd Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
\nSicken in Ilva\u2019s mines;
\nAnd Picus, long to Clusium
\nVassal in peace and war,
\nWho led to fight his Umbrian powers
\nFrom that gray crag where, girt with towers,
\nThe fortress of Nequinum lowers
\nO\u2019er the pale waves of Nar.<\/p>\n

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
\nInto the stream beneath;
\nHerminius struck at Seius,
\nAnd clove him to the teeth;
\nAt Picus brave Horatius
\nDarted one fiery thrust;
\nAnd the proud Umbrian\u2019s gilded arms
\nClashed in the bloody dust.<\/p>\n

Then Ocnus of Falerii
\nRushed on the Roman Three;
\nAnd Lausulus of Urgo,
\nThe rover of the sea;
\nAnd Aruns of Volsinium,
\nWho slew the great wild boar,
\nThe great wild boar that had his den
\nAmidst the reeds of Cosa\u2019s fen,
\nAnd wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
\nAlong Albinia\u2019s shore.<\/p>\n

Herminius smote down Aruns:
\nLartius laid Ocnus low:
\nRight to the heart of Lausulus
\nHoratius sent a blow.
\n\u201cLie there,\u201d he cried, \u201cfell pirate!
\nNo more, aghast and pale,
\nFrom Ostia\u2019s walls the crowd shall mark
\nThe track of thy destroying bark.
\nNo more Campania\u2019s hinds shall fly
\nTo woods and caverns when they spy
\nThy thrice accursed sail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Two<\/p>\n

But now no sound of laughter
\nWas heard among the foes.
\nA wild and wrathful clamor
\nFrom all the vanguard rose.
\nSix spears\u2019 lengths from the entrance
\nHalted that deep array,
\nAnd for a space no man came forth
\nTo win the narrow way.<\/p>\n

But all Etruria\u2019s noblest
\nFelt their hearts sink to see
\nOn the earth the bloody corpses,
\nIn the path the dauntless Three:
\nAnd, from the ghastly entrance
\nWhere those bold Romans stood,
\nAll shrank, like boys who unaware,
\nRanging the woods to start a hare,
\nCome to the mouth of the dark lair
\nWhere, growling low, a fierce old bear
\nLies amidst bones and blood.<\/p>\n

Yet one man for one moment
\nStrode out before the crowd;
\nWell known was he to all the Three,
\nAnd they gave him greeting loud.
\n\u201cNow welcome, welcome, Sextus!
\nNow welcome to thy home!
\nWhy dost thou stay, and turn away?
\nHere lies the road to Rome.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thrice looked he at the city;
\nThrice looked he at the dead;
\nAnd thrice came on in fury,
\nAnd thrice turned back in dread:
\nAnd, white with fear and hatred,
\nScowled at the narrow way
\nWhere, wallowing in a pool of blood,
\nThe bravest Tuscans lay.<\/p>\n

But meanwhile axe and lever
\nHave manfully been plied;
\nAnd now the bridge hangs tottering
\nAbove the boiling tide.
\n\u201cCome back, come back, Horatius!\u201d
\nLoud cried the Fathers all.
\n\u201cBack, Lartius! back, Herminius!
\nBack, ere the ruin fall!\u201d<\/p>\n

Back darted Spurius Lartius;
\nHerminius darted back:
\nAnd, as they passed, beneath their feet
\nThey felt the timbers crack.
\nBut when they turned their faces,
\nAnd on the farther shore
\nSaw brave Horatius stand alone,
\nThey would have crossed once more.<\/p>\n

But with a crash like thunder
\nFell every loosened beam,
\nAnd, like a dam, the mighty wreck
\nLay right athwart the stream:
\nAnd a long shout of triumph
\nRose from the walls of Rome,
\nAs to the highest turret-tops
\nWas splashed the yellow foam.<\/p>\n

And, like a horse unbroken
\nWhen first he feels the rein,
\nThe furious river struggled hard,
\nAnd tossed his tawny mane,
\nAnd burst the curb and bounded,
\nRejoicing to be free,
\nAnd whirling down, in fierce career,
\nBattlement, and plank, and pier,
\nRushed headlong to the sea.<\/p>\n

Alone stood brave Horatius,
\nBut constant still in mind;
\nThrice thirty thousand foes before,
\nAnd the broad flood behind.
\n\u201cDown with him!\u201d cried false Sextus,
\nWith a smile on his pale face.
\n\u201cNow yield thee,\u201d cried Lars Porsena,
\n\u201cNow yield thee to our grace.\u201d<\/p>\n

Round turned he, as not deigning
\nThose craven ranks to see;
\nNought spake he to Lars Porsena,
\nTo Sextus nought spake he;
\nBut he saw on Palatinus
\nThe white porch of his home;
\nAnd he spake to the noble river
\nThat rolls by the towers of Rome.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Tiber! Father Tiber!
\nTo whom the Romans pray,
\nA Roman\u2019s life, a Roman\u2019s arms,
\nTake thou in charge this day!\u201d
\nSo he spake, and speaking sheathed
\nThe good sword by his side,
\nAnd with his harness on his back,
\nPlunged headlong in the tide.<\/p>\n

No sound of joy or sorrow
\nWas heard from either bank;
\nBut friends and foes in dumb surprise,
\nWith parted lips and straining eyes,
\nStood gazing where he sank;
\nAnd when above the surges,
\nThey saw his crest appear,
\nAll Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
\nAnd even the ranks of Tuscany
\nCould scarce forbear to cheer.<\/p>\n

But fiercely ran the current,
\nSwollen high by months of rain:
\nAnd fast his blood was flowing;
\nAnd he was sore in pain,
\nAnd heavy with his armor,
\nAnd spent with changing blows:
\nAnd oft they thought him sinking,
\nBut still again he rose.<\/p>\n

Never, I ween, did swimmer,
\nIn such an evil case,
\nStruggle through such a raging flood
\nSafe to the landing place:
\nBut his limbs were borne up bravely
\nBy the brave heart within,
\nAnd our good father Tiber
\nBare bravely up his chin.<\/p>\n

\u201cCurse on him!\u201d quoth false Sextus;
\n\u201cWill not the villain drown?
\nBut for this stay, ere close of day
\nWe should have sacked the town!\u201d
\n\u201cHeaven help him!\u201d quoth Lars Porsena
\n\u201cAnd bring him safe to shore;
\nFor such a gallant feat of arms
\nWas never seen before.\u201d<\/p>\n

And now he feels the bottom;
\nNow on dry earth he stands;
\nNow round him throng the Fathers;
\nTo press his gory hands;
\nAnd now, with shouts and clapping,
\nAnd noise of weeping loud,
\nHe enters through the River-Gate
\nBorne by the joyous crowd.<\/p>\n

\"Men<\/p>\n

They gave him of the corn-land,
\nThat was of public right,
\nAs much as two strong oxen
\nCould plough from morn till night;
\nAnd they made a molten image,
\nAnd set it up on high,
\nAnd there is stands unto this day
\nTo witness if I lie.<\/p>\n

It stands in the Comitium
\nPlain for all folk to see;
\nHoratius in his harness,
\nHalting upon one knee:
\nAnd underneath is written,
\nIn letters all of gold,
\nHow valiantly he kept the bridge
\nIn the brave days of old.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Editors’ note: While serving the English government in India during the 1830s, politician, poet, and historian Thomas Babington Macaulay spun semi-mythical ancient Roman tales into memorable ballads or \u201clays.\u201d His most famous lay was \u201cHoratius,\u201d a ballad that recounted the legendary courage of an ancient Roman army officer, Publius Horatius Cocles. In the fifth century B.C., […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":44791,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[502,42272],"tags":[42295],"yst_prominent_words":[],"class_list":["post-44786","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-character","category-manhood","tag-manvotionals"],"featured_image_urls":{"large":"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/2014\/12\/horatius-538x280.gif","rpwe-thumbnail":"https:\/\/content.artofmanliness.com\/uploads\/2014\/12\/horatius-45x45.gif"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/44786","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=44786"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/44786\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":141919,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/44786\/revisions\/141919"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/44791"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=44786"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=44786"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=44786"},{"taxonomy":"yst_prominent_words","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/app-json\/wp\/v2\/yst_prominent_words?post=44786"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}