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COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 BRITISH AUTHORS. 
 
 VOL. CXCVIII. 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
TATJCHNITZ EDITION". 
 
 By the same Author, 
 
 THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND.10 vols. 
 
 CRITICAL AND HISTORICAL ESSAYS.5 vols. 
 
 SPEECHES .2 vols. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL ESSAYS.1 vol. 
 
 WILLIAM PITT, ATTERBURY.1 VOl. 
 
 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF LORD MACAULAY. By his 
 
 Nephew GEORGE OTTO TREVELYAN, M.P.4 vols. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF LORD MACAULAY. 
 
 Edited by GEORGE OTTO TREVELYAN, M.P. . * . 2 vols. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/laysofancientrom00maca_3 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME: 
 
 WITH 
 
 IVEY” AND “THE AEMADA” 
 
 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. 
 
 COPYRIGHT EDITION, 
 
 LEIPZIG 
 
 BERNHARD TAUCIINITZ 
 
 1851. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 PREFACE . i 
 
 HORATIUS.35 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.81 
 
 VIRGINIA.143 
 
 THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS.189 
 
 IVRY: A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS ..... 221 
 
 THE ARMADA: A FRAGMENT.231 
 

 
 
 
4 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 That what is called the history of the Kings and 
 early Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, 
 few scholars have, since the time of Beaufort, ven¬ 
 tured to deny. It is certain that, more than three 
 hundred and sixty years after the date ordinarily 
 assigned for the foundation 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 cen¬ 
 tury and a half after this destruction of the records. 
 It is certain, therefore, that the great Latin writers 
 of the Augustan age did not possess those materials, 
 without which a trustworthy account of the infancy 
 of the republic could not possibly be framed. Those 
 writers own, indeed, that the chronicles to which 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 I 
 
2 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 they had access were filled with battles that were 
 never fought, and Consuls that were never inaugu¬ 
 rated; and we have abundant proof that, in these 
 chronicles, events of the greatest importance, such as 
 the issue of the war with Porsena, and the issue of 
 the war with Brennus, were grossly misrepresented. 
 Under these circumstances 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 person¬ 
 ages, of the same class with Perseus and Ixion. As 
 he draws nearer and nearer to the confines of authen¬ 
 tic 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 details, not only because 
 they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but also 
 because he will constantly 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 ima- 
 

 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 3 
 
 gination 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 Latin literature. The 
 loves of the Vestal and the God of War, the cradle 
 laid among the reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she- 
 wolf, the shepherd’s cabin, the recognition, the fra¬ 
 tricide, 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 meetings 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 simulated madness of Brutus, 
 the ambiguous reply of the Delphian oracle to the 
 Tarquins, the wrongs of Lucretia, the heroic actions 
 of Horatius Codes, of Scaevola, and of Cloelia, the 
 battle of Regillus won by the aid of Castor and Pol¬ 
 lux, 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, 
 
 i 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the combat between Valerius Corvus and the gigantic 
 Gaul, are among the many instances which will 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 modern 
 works on the early times of Rome. It enlivens the 
 dulness of the Universal History, and gives a charm 
 to the most meagre abridgements of Goldsmith. 
 
 Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerning 
 men who rejected the popular account of the founda¬ 
 tion of Rome, because that account appeared to them 
 to have the air, not of a history, but of a romance or 
 a drama. Plutarch, who was displeased at their in¬ 
 credulity, had nothing better to say in reply to their 
 arguments - than that chance sometimes turns poet, 
 and produces trains of events not to be distinguished 
 from the most elaborate plots which are constructed 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 5 
 
 by art * But though the existence of a poetical ele¬ 
 ment in the early history of the Great City was 
 detected so many ages ago, the first critic who dis¬ 
 tinctly saw from what source that poetical element 
 had been derived was James Perizonius, one of the 
 most acute and learned antiquaries of the seventeenth 
 century. His theory, which, in his own days, at¬ 
 tracted 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 communi¬ 
 cating truths had borne any proportion to his talent 
 for investigating them. That theory has been adopted 
 by several eminent scholars of our own country, par¬ 
 ticularly by the Bishop of St. David’s, by Professor 
 Malden, and by the lamented Arnold. It appears to 
 be now generally received by men conversant with 
 
 * 6 YjtoTttov fj.lv Ivtotg loti to dqafxatv/.ov xai rtkccofiatiUdag' ov del 61 
 vcTtiotslv, ti)v tv/i]v oQojvtag, oicov ttoirjfidtwv dijfiiovQyog loti. — Plut. 
 Rom. viii. This remarkable passage has been more grossly misinterpreted 
 than any other in the Greek language, where the sense was so obvious. 
 The Latin version of Cruserius, the French version of Amyot, the old 
 English version by several hands, and the later English version by Lang- 
 horne, are all equally destitute of every trace of the meaning of the 
 original. None of the translators saw even that Ttolrjfja is a poem. They 
 all render it an event. 
 
6 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 classical antiquity; and indeed it rests on such strong 
 proofs, both internal and external, that it will not be 
 easily subverted. A popular exposition of this theory, 
 and of the evidence by which it is supported, may 
 not be without interest even for readers who are un¬ 
 acquainted 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 exclusively of works 
 fashioned on Greek models. The Latin metres, heroic, 
 elegiac, lyric, and dramatic, are of Greek origin. 
 The best Latin epic poetry is the feeble echo of the 
 Iliad and Odyssey. The best Latin eclogues are imi¬ 
 tations of Theocritus. The plan of the most finished 
 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 translations from Demophilus, Me¬ 
 nander, and Apollodorus. The Latin philosophy was 
 borrowed, without alteration, from the Portico and the 
 Academy; and the great Latin orators constantly pro¬ 
 posed to themselves as patterns the speeches of De¬ 
 mosthenes and Lysias. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 7 
 
 But there was an earlier Latin literature, a litera¬ 
 ture truly Latin, which has wholly perished, which 
 had, indeed, almost wholly perished long before those 
 whom we are in the habit of regarding as the greatest 
 Latin writers were born. That literature abounded 
 with metrical romances, such as are found in every 
 country where there is much curiosity and intelli¬ 
 gence, but little reading and writing. All human 
 beings, not utterly savage, long for some information 
 about past times, and are delighted by narratives 
 which present pictures to the eye of the mind. But 
 it is only in very enlightened communities that books 
 are readily accessible. Metrical composition, there¬ 
 fore, which, in a highly civilised nation, is a mere 
 luxury, is, in nations imperfectly civilised, almost 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 memory. A man who 
 can invent or embellish an interesting story, and put 
 it into a form which others may easily retain in 
 their recollection, will always be highly esteemed by 
 a people eager for amusement and information, but 
 destitute of libraries. Such is the origin of ballad- 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 poetry, a species of composition which scarcely ever 
 fails to spring up and flourish in every society, at a 
 certain point in the progress towards refinement. Ta¬ 
 citus 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 actions of the ancient Gauls were 
 commemorated in the verses of Bards. During many 
 ages, and through many revolutions, minstrelsy re¬ 
 tained 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 pre¬ 
 served, through ages of darkness, a faint and doubtful 
 memory of Arthur. In the Highlands of Scotland 
 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 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 9 
 
 that, when a Peruvian Inca died, men of skill were 
 appointed to celebrate him in verses, which all the 
 people learned by heart, and sang in public on days 
 of festival. The feats of Kurroglou, the great free¬ 
 booter of Turkistan, recounted in ballads composed 
 by himself, are known in every village of Northern 
 Persia. Captain Beechey heard the bards of the 
 Sandwich Islands recite the heroic achievements 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 ex¬ 
 cellence among the Castilians, before they began to 
 copy Tuscan patterns. It attained a still higher 
 degree of excellence among the English and the 
 Lowland Scotch, during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and 
 sixteenth centuries. But it reached its full perfec¬ 
 tion in ancient Greece; for there can be no doubt 
 that the great Homeric poems are generically ballads, 
 though widely distinguished from all other ballads, 
 
io 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 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, ballad-poetry 
 should flourish, so is it also agreeable to general ex¬ 
 perience that, at a subsequent stage in the progress 
 of society, ballad-poetry should be undervalued and 
 neglected. Knowledge advances: manners change: 
 great foreign models of composition are studied and 
 imitated. The phraseology of the old minstrels be¬ 
 comes obsolete. Their versification, which, having re¬ 
 ceived its laws only from the ear, abounds in ir¬ 
 regularities, seems licentious and uncouth. Their 
 simplicity appears beggarly when compared with the 
 quaint forms and gaudy colouring 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 irretrievably 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 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I I 
 
 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. Lockhart. 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 moment have deprived 
 the world for ever 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 antiquary, 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 family. In truth, the only 
 people who, through their whole passage from sim¬ 
 plicity to the highest civilisation, never for a moment 
 ceased to love and admire their old ballads, were the 
 Greeks. 
 
12 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 That the early Romans should have had ballad- 
 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 justified in pronouncing them 
 highly probable, even if we had no direct evidence on 
 the subject. But we have direct evidence of unquestion¬ 
 able authority. 
 
 Ennius, who flourished in the time of the Second 
 Punic War, was regarded in the Augustan 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 Ro¬ 
 byn Hode” to Lord Surrey. Ennius 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. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 13 
 
 “Where,” Cicero mournfully asks, “are those old verses 
 now?” * 
 
 Contemporary with Ennius was Quintus Fabius 
 Pictor, the earliest of the Roman annalists. His ac¬ 
 count of the infancy and youth of Romulus and Remus 
 has been preserved by Dionysius, and contains a very 
 remarkable reference to the ancient Latin poetry. Fa¬ 
 bius says that, in his time, his countrymen were still 
 in the habit of singing ballads about the Twins. 
 “Even 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 
 
 * “Quid? Nostri veteres versus ubi sunt? 
 
 .‘Quos dim Fauni vatesque canebant. 
 
 Cum neque Musarum scopulos quisquam superarat, 
 
 Nec dicti studiosus erat.’ ” Bruins, xvill. 
 
 The Muses, it should be observed, r are Greek divinities. The Italian 
 Goddesses of verse were the Camoense. At a later period, the appellations 
 were used indiscriminately; but in the age of Ennius there was probably a 
 distinction. In the epitaph of Nsevius, who was the representative of the 
 old Italian school of poetry, the Camcense, 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 Latium, at a very remote period, 
 the same functions which belonged to the Magians in Persia and to the Bards 
 in Gaul. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 H 
 
 or cowherds, but such that men might well guess them 
 to be of the blood of Kings and Gods.”* 
 
 * 01 Se avdQw&ivtES ylvovtai, y.atd te agliooiv ftoQcprjg y.al cpQovi]- 
 fiatog byy.ov, ov avoipoqfioig y.al (3ovy.6A.oig ioiy.otsg, dAV oi'o vg dv tig 
 atgiojOEie rovg ey. (3 uoiJ.eLov xe (pvvtag ysvovg, y.al anb daifioviov onoQag 
 ysvio&ai vo/j.i£o[.i£vovg , dig iv toTg natqioig vfiroig vno ^Pwfxahov Iti 
 y.al vvv qdEtai. — Dion. Hal. 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 Latin poetry which the greatest Latin 
 writers of his age regretted as hopelessly 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, Ko'ivtog fxsv <&dpiog, 6 Iliy.twQ 
 feyof-iEVog, tfjds yodtpsi. 
 
 Another argument may be urged which seems to deserve considera¬ 
 tion. The author of the passage in question 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 constantly 
 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. ( Vit . 11. 1.) 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 be¬ 
 lieved to have been built by Romulus, and both carefully repaired and 
 held in high honour. The objections to such a supposition seem to be 
 strong. Neither Dionysius nor Vitruvius speaks of more than one such 
 hut. Dio Cassius informs us that twice, during the long administration 
 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 English 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, Cambridge. Marcus Seneca, Macrobius, and 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 15 
 
 Cato the Censor, who also lived in the days of 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 bal¬ 
 lads in praise of illustrious men; and these ballads 
 it was the fashion for the guests at banquets to sing 
 in turn while the piper played. “Would,” exclaims 
 
 Conon, a Greek writer from whom Photius has made large extracts, mention 
 only one hut of Romulus, that in the Capitol. ( M. Seneca, Contr. 1. 6.; 
 Macrobius, Sat. 1. 15.; Photius, Bibl. 186.) Ovid, Livy, Petronius, Valerius 
 Maximus, Lucius Seneca, and St. Jerome, mention only one hut of Romulus, 
 without specifying the site. {Ovid. Fasti, hi. 183; Liv. v. 53.; Petronius, 
 Fragm.; Val. Max. iv. 4.; L. Seneca, Consolatio ad Helviam; D. Hieron. 
 ad Paulinia?ium de Didymo.) 
 
 The whole difficulty is removed, if we suppose that Dionysius was 
 merely 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. He describes, with 
 great precision, the spot where Romulus dwelt, on the slope of Mount Palatine 
 leading to the Circus; but he says not a word implying that the dwelling 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 
 certain, 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. 
 
■I 6 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Cicero, “that we still had the old ballads of which Cato 
 speaks!”* 
 
 Valerius Maximus gives us exactly similar infor¬ 
 mation, without mentioning his authority, and observes 
 that the ancient Roman ballads were probably of more 
 benefit to the young than all the lectures of the 
 Athenian schools, and that to the influence of the na¬ 
 tional poetry were to be ascribed the virtues of such 
 men as Camillus and Fabricius** 
 
 Varro, whose authority on all questions connected 
 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 some¬ 
 times without instrumental music, ancient ballads in 
 
 * 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 
 virorum laudes atque virtutes. Ex quo perspicuum est, et cantus turn fuisse 
 rescriptos vocum sonis, et carmina.”— Tusc. Quaest. iv. 2. Again: “Uti- 
 nam exstarent ilia carmina, quae, multis sseculis ante suam aetatem in epulis 
 esse cantitata a singulis convivis de clarorum virorum laudibus, in Originibus 
 scriptum reliquit Cato.” — B-rutus'X IX. 
 
 ** “Majores natu in conviviis ad tibias egregia superiorum opera carmine 
 comprehensa pangebant, quo ad ea imitanda juventutem alacriorem redderent. 
 
 . . . . Quas Athenas, quam scbolam, quae alienigena studia huic domesticae 
 disciplinae prsetulerim ? Inde oriebantur Camilli, Scipiones, Fabricii, Marcelli, 
 Fabii.” — Val. Max. n. 1. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 17 
 
 praise of men of former times. These young per¬ 
 formers, he observes, were of unblemished character, 
 a circumstance which he probably mentioned because, 
 among the Greeks, and indeed in his time among the 
 Romans also, the morals of singing boys were in no 
 high repute.* 
 
 The testimony of Horace, though given inciden¬ 
 tally, confirms the statements of Cato, Valerius Maximus, 
 and Varro. The poet predicts that, under the peace¬ 
 ful administration of Augustus, 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.** 
 
 * “In conviviis pueri modesti ut cantarent carmina antiqua, in quibus 
 laudes erant majorum, et assa voce, et cum tibicine.” Nonius, Ass a voce 
 pro sola. 
 
 ** “ Nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris, 
 
 • Inter jocosi munera Liberi, 
 
 Cum prole matronisque nostris. 
 
 Rite Deos prius apprecati, 
 
 Virtute functos, more patrum, duces, 
 
 Lydis remixto carmine tibiis, 
 
 Trojamque, et Anchisen, et almae 
 Progeniem Veneris canemus,” 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 Carm. iv. 15. 
 2 
 
18 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 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 thing else is prosaic. 
 We can scarcely hesitate to pronounce that the mag¬ 
 nificent, 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 Censor, 
 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 consider how com¬ 
 plete 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 was not till after the war 
 
 * See the Preface to the Lay of the Battle of RegiUus. 
 

 
.PREFACE. 
 
 9 
 
 5 with Pyrrhus that the poetry of Rome began to put 
 off its old Ausonian character. The transformation 
 was soon consummated. The conquered, says Horace, 
 led captive the conquerors. It was precisely at the 
 time at which the Roman people rose to unrivalled 
 political ascendency that they stooped to pass under 
 the intellectual yoke. It was precisely at the time at 
 which the sceptre departed from Greece that the em¬ 
 pire of her language and of her arts became universal 
 and despotic. The revolution indeed was not effected 
 without a struggle. Nasvius seems to have been the 
 last of the ancient line of poets. Ennius was the 
 founder of a new dynasty. Nsevius celebrated the 
 First Punic War in Saturnian verse, the old national 
 verse of Italy.* Ennius sang the Second Punic War 
 
 * Cicero speaks highly in more than one place of this poem of Naevius ; 
 Ennius sneered at it, and stole from it. 
 
 As to the Saturnian measure, see Hermann’s Elementa Doctrines Me trie a;, 
 in. 9. 
 
 The Saturnian line, according to the grammarians, consisted of two 
 parts. The first was a catalectic dimeter iambic; the second was composed 
 of three trochees. But the licence taken by the early Latin poets seems 
 to have been almost boundless. The most perfect Saturnian line which 
 has been preserved was the work, not of a professional artist, but of an 
 amateur: 
 
 “ Dabunt malum Metelli Naevio poetae.” 
 
 There has been much difference of opinion among learned men respect- 
 
 2 * 
 
20 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 in numbers borrowed from the Iliad. The elder poet, 
 in the epitaph which he wrote for himself, and which 
 
 ing 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 in 
 different 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 
 verses; as,— 
 
 “Estas nuevas a mio Cid eran venidas.” 
 
 “A mi lo dicen; a 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— 
 
 “The queen was in her parlour 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 Latin minstrel may havfe visited 
 Sybaris or Crotona’, may have heard some verses of Archilochus sung, may 
 have been pleased with the metre, and may have introduced it at Rome. 
 Thus much is certain, that the Saturnian measure, if not a native of Italy, was 
 at least so early and so completely naturalised there that its foreign origin was 
 forgotten. 
 
 Bentley says indeed that the Saturnian measure was first brought from 
 Greece into Italy by Nsevius. But this is merely obiter dictum , to use a 
 phrase common in 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 arguments which might be brought against 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 2 
 
 is a fine specimen of the early Roman diction and 
 versification, plaintively boasted that the Latin lan¬ 
 guage had died with him* Thus what to Horace 
 appeared to be the first faint dawn of Roman litera- 
 
 Bentley’s assertion—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 Saturnian verse. Is it possible 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 uncivilised country, 
 those rugged Saturnian 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 TerentianusMaurus, 
 to whom he has himself appealed. Terentianus Maurus does indeed say that 
 the Saturnian measure, though believed by the Romans from a very early 
 period (“credidit vetustas”) to be of Italian invention, was really borrowed 
 from the Greeks. But Terentianus Maurus does not say that it was first 
 borrowed by Naevius. Nay, the expressions used by Terentianus 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 distinguished 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, Noctes Atticae, 1. 24. 
 
22 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 ture appeared 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 de¬ 
 lighted their fathers, and giving their whole admira¬ 
 tion 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 vulgar. While Vir¬ 
 gil, 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 when 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 descendants 
 of the mosstroopers of Liddesdale, might have brought 
 to light many fine remains of ancient minstrelsy. No 
 such search was made. The Latin ballads perished 
 
 * See Servius, in Georg, n. 385. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 23 
 
 for ever. Yet discerning critics have thought that 
 they could still perceive in 'the early history of Rome 
 numerous fragments of this lost poetry, as the travel¬ 
 ler on classic ground sometimes finds, built into the 
 heavy 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 which 
 a crowd of orators and annalists found the materials 
 for their prose. 
 
 It is not difficult 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 intermediate 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, ^ we learn from Polybius, was 
 expected, on such an occasion, to recapitulate all the 
 services which the ancestors of the deceased had, from 
 the earliest time, rendered to the commonwealth. 
 
24 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 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 preserve a copy 
 of the speech which had been pronounced over his 
 corpse. The compilers of the early chronicles w~ould 
 have recourse to these speeches; and the great his¬ 
 torians of a later period would have recourse to the 
 chronicles. 
 
 It may be worth while to select a particular story, 
 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 admiring thousands. As the proces- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 25 
 
 sion passes the Capitol, prayers and vows are poured 
 forth, but in vain. The devoted band, leaving Janus 
 on the right, marches to its doom through the Gate of 
 Evil Luck. After achieving high deeds of valour 
 against overwhelming numbers, all perish save one 
 child, the stock from which the great Fabian race was 
 destined again to spring, for the safety and glory of 
 the commonwealth. That this fine romance, the de¬ 
 tails 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 de¬ 
 gree probable. Nor is it difficult 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 Ennius was born, is said 
 to have been interred with extraordinary pomp. In the 
 eulogy pronounced over his body all the great exploits 
 of his ancestors were doubtless recounted and exag¬ 
 gerated. If there were then extant songs which gave 
 a vivid and touching description of an event, the sad¬ 
 dest and the most glorious in the long history of the 
 
2 6 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 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 and vine-dressers. 
 But the speech would certainly be preserved 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. Livy 
 would at a glance distinguish the bold strokes of the 
 forgotten poet from the dull and feeble narrative by 
 which they were surrounded, 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 very like this has happened 
 in several countries, and, among others, in our own. 
 Perhaps the theory of Perizonius cannot be better 
 illustrated than by showing that what he supposes to 
 have taken place in ancient times has, beyond all doubt, 
 taken place in modern times. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 21 
 
 “History,” says Hume with the utmost gravity, 
 “has preserved some instances of Edgar’s 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 
 suspicious 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 chronicle of William of Malmesbury, 
 who lived in the time of King Stephen. The great 
 majority of readers suppose that the device by which 
 Elfleda was substituted for her young mistress, the 
 artifice by which Athelwold obtained the hand of El¬ 
 frida, 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 Coventry’s nose. But when we turn to 
 William of Malmesbury, we find that Hume, in 
 his eagerness to relate these pleasant fables, has 
 overlooked one very important circumstance. Wil¬ 
 liam does indeed tell both the stories; but he gives 
 us distinct notice that he does not warrant their 
 
28 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 truth, and that they rest on no better authority than 
 that of ballads.* 
 
 Such is the way in which these two well-known 
 tales have been handed down. They originally ap¬ 
 peared in a poetical form. They found their way from 
 ballads into an old chronicle. The ballads perished; 
 the chronicle remained. A great historian, some cen¬ 
 turies after the ballads had been altogether forgotten, 
 consulted the chronicle. He was struck by the lively 
 colouring of these ancient fictions: he transferred them 
 to his pages; and thus we find inserted, as unquestion¬ 
 able facts, in a narrative which is likely to last as 
 long as the English tongue, the inventions of some 
 minstrel whose works were probably never committed 
 to writing, whose name is buried in oblivion, and 
 whose dialect has become obsolete. It must, then, be 
 admitted to be possible, or rather highly probable, that 
 the stories of Romulus and Remus, and of the Horatii 
 and Curiatii, may have had a similar origin. 
 
 * “Infamias quas post dicam magis resperserunt cantilense.” Edgar 
 appears to have been most mercilessly treated in the Anglo-Saxon ballads. 
 He was the favourite of the monks; and the monks and minstrels were at 
 deadly feud. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 2 Q 
 
 Castilian literature will furnish us with another 
 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 
 bestowed a princely dower on his sons-in-law. But 
 the young men were base and proud, cowardly and 
 cruel. They were tried in danger, and found wanting. 
 They fled before the Moors, and once, when a lion 
 broke out of his den, they ran and crouched in an un¬ 
 seemly 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 
 departed, leaving them for dead. But one of the house 
 of Bivar, suspecting foul play, had followed the tra¬ 
 vellers in disguise. The ladies 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 
 
30 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 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 vain. They were 
 vanquished in the lists, and for ever disgraced, while 
 their injured wives were sought in marriage by great 
 princes. * 
 
 Some Spanish writers have laboured 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 acknowledges 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 the most striking passages in this 
 chronicle were copied from a poem of the twelfth cen¬ 
 tury, a poem of which the language and versification 
 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 
 
 * Mariana, lib. x. cap. 4. 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 31 
 
 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 interesting 
 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 that process, to 
 transform some portions of early Roman history back 
 into the poetry out of which they were 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 sera, may be 
 supposed to have known, and who are in nowise above 
 the passions and prejudices of their age and nation. 
 
 * See the account which Sanchez gives of the Bivar manuscript in the first 
 volume of the Coleccion dc Poesias Castellanas anteriores 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. 
 
32 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 To these imaginary poets must be ascribed some blun¬ 
 ders which are so obvious that it is unnecessary 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 mourning over the devastation and 
 slaughter by which empire and triumphs were to be 
 won, as looking 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, fortitude, temperance, veracity, spirit to resist 
 oppression, respect for legitimate authority, fidelity in 
 the observing of contracts, disinterestedness, ardent 
 patriotism; but Christian charity and chivalrous gene¬ 
 rosity were alike unknown to them. 
 
 It would have been obviously improper to mimic 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 33 
 
 the manner of any particular age or country. Some¬ 
 thing has been borrowed, however, from our own old 
 ballads, and more from Sir Walter Scott, the great 
 restorer of our ballad-poetry. To the Iliad still greater 
 obligations 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 
 really had recourse to that inexhaustible store of poe¬ 
 tical images. 
 
 It would have been easy to swell this little volume 
 to a very considerable bulk, by appending notes filled 
 with quotations; but to a learned reader such notes 
 are not necessary; for an unlearned reader they would 
 have little interest; and the judgment passed both by 
 the learned and by the unlearned on a work of the 
 imagination will always depend much more on the 
 general character and spirit of such a work than on 
 minute details. 
 
 Lays of ancie?it Rome. 
 

 
H O R A T I U S. 
 
 3 
 
H O R A T I U S. 
 
 There 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. Poly¬ 
 bius, there is reason to believe, heard the tale recited 
 over the remains of some Consul or Praetor descended 
 from the old Horatian patricians; for he introduces it 
 as a specimen of the narratives with which the Ro¬ 
 mans were in the habit of embellishing their funeral 
 oratory. It is remarkable that, according to him, Ho¬ 
 ratius defended the bridge alone, and perished in the 
 waters. According to the chronicles which Livy and 
 Dionysius followed, Horatius had two companions, 
 
38 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 swam safe to shore, and was loaded with honours 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 
 ballads which stand first in the Relics of Ancient Eng¬ 
 lish Poetry. In both those ballads the English, com¬ 
 manded by the Percy, fight with the Scots, commanded 
 by the Douglas. In one of the ballads the Douglas is 
 killed by a nameless 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 Montgomery is [shot through 
 the heart by a Northumbrian 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 per¬ 
 sons who were alive when both the ballads were made. 
 One of the minstrels says: 
 
 “Old men that knowen the grounde well yenoughe 
 Call it the battell of Otterburn: 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 39 
 
 At Otterburn began this spume 
 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 Otterborne 
 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 Livy has transmitted to us was 
 preferred by the multitude, the other, which ascribed 
 the whole glory to Horatius alone, may have been the 
 favourite 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, 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 
 
40 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 discon¬ 
 tent 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 authority 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 modern 
 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 ut¬ 
 tered a hundred times 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^ame decided blunder; for he gives us, as a 
 pure iambic line, 
 
 “Minacis aut Etrusca Porsenae manus , 1 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 41 
 
 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 com¬ 
 pany. 
 
 Niebuhr’s supposition that each of the three de¬ 
 fenders of the bridge was the representative of one of 
 the three patrician tribes is both ingenious and pro¬ 
 bable, and has been adopted in the following poem. 
 
H O R A T I U S. 
 
 A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY 
 CCCLX. 
 
 I. 
 
 Lars Porsena of Clusium 
 By the Nine Gods he swore 
 That the great house of Tarquin 
 Should suffer 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. 
 
44 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 the march for Rome. 
 
 hi. 
 
 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; 
 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 45 
 
 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 
 Sardinia’s snowy mountain-tops 
 Fringing the southern sky; 
 
 v. 
 
 From the proud mart of Pisse, 
 
 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. 
 
46 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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; 
 
 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. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 47 
 
 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. 
 
 IX. 
 
 There be thirty chosen prophets, 
 
 The wisest of the land, 
 
 Who alway by Lars Porsena 
 Both morn and evening stand: 
 Evening and morn the Thirty 
 Have turned the verses o’er, 
 Traced from the right on linen white 
 By mighty seers of yore. 
 
48 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 X. 
 
 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. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 49 
 
 XII. 
 
 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 
 The Tusculan Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name. 
 
 xm. 
 
 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. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 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, 
 
 And endless flocks of goats and sheep, 
 And endless herds of kine, 
 
 And endless trains of waggons 
 That creaked beneath the weight 
 Of corn-sacks and of household goods, 
 Choked every roaring gate. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 51 
 
 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. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 To eastward and to westward 
 Have spread the Tuscan bands; 
 Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote 
 In Crustumerium stands. 
 Verbenna down to Ostia 
 Hath wasted all the plain; 
 
 Astur hath stormed Janiculum, 
 
 And the stout guards are slain. 
 
 4' 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 xvm. 
 
 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.” 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 53 
 
 XX. 
 
 Just then a scout came flying, 
 
 All wild with haste and fear: 
 “To arms! to arms! Sir Consul; 
 
 Lars 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, 
 
54 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And plainly and more plainly, 
 
 Above that glimmering line, 
 
 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 Gaul. 
 
 xxm. 
 
 And plainly and more plainly 
 Now might the burghers know, 
 
 By port and vest, by horse and crest, 
 Each warlike Lucumo, 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 55 
 
 There Cilnius of Arretium 
 On his fleet roan was seen; 
 
 And Astur of the four-fold 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; 
 
 And by the left false Sextus, 
 
 That wrought the deed of shame. 
 
5 § 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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?” 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 57 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Then out spake brave Horatius, 
 The Captain of the Gate: 
 “To every man upon this earth 
 Death cometh soon or late. 
 And how can man die better 
 Than facing fearful odds, 
 
 For the ashes of his fathers, 
 And the temples of his Gods, 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 “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 wrought the deed of shame. 
 
58 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 “Hew down the bridge, Sir 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?” 
 
 XXX. 
 
 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,” 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 59 
 
 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. 
 
6o 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Now Roman is to Roman 
 More hateful than a foe, 
 
 And the Tribunes beard the high, 
 
 And the Fathers grind the low. 
 
 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, 
 
 And smote upon the planks above, 
 And loosed the props below. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 61 
 
 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, 
 Where stood the dauntless Three. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 The Three stood calm and silent, 
 And looked upon the foes, 
 
 And a great shout of laughter 
 From all the vanguard rose: 
 
6 2 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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; 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 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 grey crag where, girt with towers, 
 The fortress of Nequinum lowers 
 O’er the pale waves of Nar. 
 

 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 63 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus 
 Into the stream beneath: 
 
 Herminius 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; 
 
 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. 
 
6 4 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Herminius smote down Aruns: 
 
 Lartius laid Ocnus low: 
 
 Right to the heart of Lausulus 
 Horatius sent a blow. 
 
 “Lie 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.” 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But now no sound of laughter 
 Was heard among the foes. 
 A wild and wrathful clamour 
 From all the vanguard rose. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 65 
 
 Six spears’ lengths from the entrance 
 Halted that deep array, 
 
 And for a space no man came forth 
 To win the narrow way. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 But hark! the cry 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 four-fold 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. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Quoth he, “The she-wolfs litter 
 Stand savagely at bay: 
 
 But will ye dare to follow, 
 
 If Astur clears the way?” 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 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: 
 The Tuscan raised a joyful cry 
 To see the red blood flow. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 67 
 
 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. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 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, muttering low, 
 Gaze on the blasted head. 
 
 ■5 
 
6S 
 
 LAYS 01* ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 On Astur’s throat Horatius 
 Right firmly pressed his heel, 
 
 And thrice and four times tugged amain, 
 Ere he wrenched out the steel. 
 
 “And see,” he cried, “the welcome, 
 
 Fair guests, that waits you here! 
 
 What noble Lucumo comes next 
 To taste our Roman cheer?” 
 
 xlviii. 
 
 But at his 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. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 69 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 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 
 Lies amidst bones and blood. 
 
 L. 
 
 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 
 
70 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Yet one man for one moment 
 Strode out before the crowd; 
 
 Well known was he to all the Three, 
 And they gave him greeting loud. 
 “Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! 
 
 Now welcome to thy home! 
 
 Why dost thou stay, and turn away? 
 Here lies the road to Rome.” 
 
 LII. 
 
 Thrice looked he at the city; 
 
 Thrice looked he at the dead; 
 And thrice came on in fury, 
 
 And thrice turned back in dread: 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 71 
 
 And, white with fear and hatred, 
 Scowled at the narrow way 
 Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, 
 The bravest Tuscans lay. 
 
 Mil, 
 
 But meanwhile axe and lever 
 Have manfully been plied; 
 
 And now the bridge hangs tottering 
 Above the boiling tide. 
 
 “Come back, come back, Horatius!” 
 
 Loud cried the Fathers all. 
 
 “Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! 
 Back, ere the ruin fall!” 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Back darted Spurius Lartius; 
 
 Herminius darted back: 
 
 And, as they passed, beneath their feet 
 They felt the timbers crack. 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 But when they turned their faces, 
 
 And on the farther shore 
 Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 
 
 They would have crossed once more. 
 
 LV. 
 
 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. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 And, like a horse unbroken 
 When first he feels the rein, 
 The furious river struggled hard, 
 And tossed his tawny mane, 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 73 
 
 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. 
 
 * 
 
 LVII. 
 
 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; 
 
74 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 But he saw on Palatinus 
 
 The white porch of his home; 
 
 And he spake to the noble river 
 That rolls by the towers of Rome. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 “Oh, Tiber, father Tiber! 
 
 To whom the Romans pray, 
 
 A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms, 
 Take thou in charge this day!” 
 
 So he spake, and speaking sheathed 
 The good sword by his side, 
 
 And with his harness on his back, 
 Plunged headlong in the tide. 
 
 LX. 
 
 No sound of joy or sorrow 
 Was heard from either bank; 
 
 But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 
 With parted lips and straining eyes, 
 Stood gazing where he sank; 
 

HORATIUS. 
 
 75 
 
 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 flowung; 
 
 And he was sore in pain, 
 
 And heavy with his armour, 
 
 And spent with changing blows: 
 And oft they thought him sinking, 
 But still again he rose. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Never, I ween, did swimmer, 
 
 In such an evil case, 
 
 Struggle through such a raging flood 
 Safe to the landing place: 
 
76 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 But his limbs were borne up bravely 
 By the brave heart within, 
 
 And our good father Tiber 
 Bare 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. 
 
 * “Our ladye bare upp her chinne.” 
 
 Ballad o/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, J. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 77 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 And now he feels the bottom; 
 
 Now on dry earth he stands; 
 
 Now round him throng the Fathers 
 To press his gory hands; 
 
 And now, with shouts and clapping, 
 And noise of weeping loud, 
 
 He enters through the River-Gate, 
 Borne by the joyous crowd. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 They gave him of the corn-land, 
 
 That was of public right, 
 
 As much as two strong oxen 
 
 Could plough from morn till night; 
 And they made a molten image, 
 
 And set it up on high, 
 
 And there it stands unto this day 
 To witness if I lie. 
 
78 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 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. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 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 boys with hearts as bold 
 As his who kept the bridge so well 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 79 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 And in the nights of winter, 
 
 When the cold north winds blow, 
 And the long howling of the wolves 
 Is heard amidst the snow; 
 
 When round the lonely cottage 
 Roars loud the tempest’s din, 
 
 And the good logs of Algidus 
 Roar louder yet within; 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 When the oldest cask is opened, 
 
 And the largest lamp is lit; 
 
 When the chestnuts glow in the embers, 
 And the kid turns on the spit; 
 
 When young and old in circle 
 Around the firebrands close; 
 
 When the girls are weaving baskets, 
 And the lads are shaping bows; 
 
8g 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 When the goodman mends his armour, 
 And trims his helmet’s plume, 
 
 When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily 
 Goes flashing through the loom; 
 With weeping and with laughter 
 Still is the story told, 
 
 How well Horatius kept the bridge 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
THE 
 
 BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 6 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 The following poem is supposed to have been pro¬ 
 duced about ninety years after the lay of Horatius. 
 Soihe persons mentioned in the lay of Horatius make 
 their appearance again, and some appellations and epi¬ 
 thets used in the lay of Horatius have been 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 
 
 6 * 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 and in Hesiod, 'HgaKtysfy, TTSQixlvtog 5 ipcpiyvijeig, 
 diaxroQog AgyeityovT j /£, zmu.nvlog Eh'vrjg even 
 
 Tjvxofioio. Thus, too, in our own national songs, 
 Douglas is almost always the doughty Douglas: Eng¬ 
 land is merry England: all the gold is red; and all 
 the ladies are gay. 
 
 The principal distinction between the lay of Hora- 
 tius and the lay of the Lake Regillus is that the 
 former is meant to be purely Roman, while the latter, 
 though national in its general 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 acquaintance 
 with the works of Homer and Herodotus. 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 Corinthian nobles of the great house of the Bac- 
 chiadae, driven from their country by the tyranny of 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 85 
 
 that Cypselus, the tale of whose strange escape Hero¬ 
 dotus has related with incomparable simplicity and 
 liveliness.* Livy and 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.*** The embassy of 
 the young Tarquins 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 Herodotus, lured 
 Croesus to destruction. Then the character of the 
 
 * Herodotus, v. 92. Livy, I. 34. Dionysius, in. 46. 
 
 ** Livy, 1. 54. Dionysius, iv. 56. 
 
 *** Herodotus, hi. 154. Livy, 1. 53. 
 
86 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 narrative changes. From the first mention of Lucretia 
 to the retreat of Porsena nothing seems to be bor¬ 
 rowed from foreign sources. The villany of Sextus, 
 the suicide of his victim, the revolution, the death of 
 the sons of Brutus, the defence of the bridge, Mucius 
 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 Latines, we are again struck by the Greek 
 air of the story. The Battle of the Lake Regillus is 
 in all respects a Homeric battle, except that the com¬ 
 batants ride astride on their horses, instead of driving 
 chariots. The mass of fighting men is hardly men¬ 
 tioned. The leaders single each other out, and engage 
 hand to hand. The great object of the warriors on 
 both sides is, as in the Iliad, to obtain possession of 
 the spoils and bodies of the slain; and several cir¬ 
 cumstances are related which forcibly remind us of 
 
 * M. de Pouilly attempted, a hundred and twenty years ago, to prove 
 that the story of Mucius was of Greek origin; but he was signally confuted 
 by the Abbe Sallier. See the Mcmoires de l'Academie des Inscriptions, 
 vi. 27. 66. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 87 
 
 the great slaughter round the corpses of Sarpedon 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 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. 
 
 Tgcoalv uev ngouayi^v AXe^avSgos O’eosiSrjs, 
 
 .... Aoyeicov ngoxaXi^STO Ttnvras agiorovs , 
 avrifiiov ftaysoaofrcu iv aivrj SrfCorrjn. 
 
 Livy introduces Sextus in a similar manner: “Ferocem 
 juvenem Tarquinium, ostentantem se in prima exsulum 
 acie.” Menelaus rushes to meet Paris. A Roman 
 noble, eager for vengeance, spurs his horse towards 
 
88 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Sextus. Both the guilty princes are instantly terror- 
 stricken : 
 
 Tov S' cos ovv evotjoev 24Xe£av§QOs d’EOsiSrjs 
 ev 7TQOfid’/ j oioi cpavEVTa, narsTiXrjyr] cpiXov fjroo. 
 axp S' Sraocor sis eO'vos iyd^szo xrjQ aXesircov. 
 
 “Tarquinius,” says Livy, “retro in agmen suorum 
 infenso cessit hosti.” If this be a fortuitous co¬ 
 incidence, it is one of the most extraordinary in 
 literature. 
 
 In the following poem, therefore, images and in¬ 
 cidents have been borrowed, not merely without scruple, 
 but on principle, from the incomparable 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 supernatural 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. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 89 
 
 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 honour on 
 the Ides of Quintilis, supposed to be the anniversary 
 of the battle; and on that day sumptuous sacrifices 
 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 ascer¬ 
 tained; but we may easily imagine several ways in 
 which it might have originated; nor is it at all 
 necessary to suppose, with Julius Frontinus, 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 gene¬ 
 ral, 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 favour of 
 
90 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 the Twin Gods. When such was the prevailing 
 sentiment, 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 Latines, would find ready credence. We know, 
 indeed, that, in modern times, a very similar story 
 actually found credence among a people much more 
 civilised 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 print¬ 
 ing presses, libraries, universities, scholars, logi¬ 
 cians, jurists, and statesmen, had the face to assert 
 that, in one engagement against the Indians, Saint 
 James had appeared on a grey horse at the head of 
 the Castilian adventurers. Many of those adventu¬ 
 rers were living when this lie was printed. One of 
 them, honest Bernal Diaz, wrote an account of the 
 expedition. He had the evidence of his own senses 
 against the legend; but he seems to have distrusted 
 even the evidence of his own senses. He says that 
 he was in the battle, and that he saw a grey horse 
 with a man on his back, but that the man was, to 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 91 
 
 his thinking, Francesco de Morla, and not the ever- 
 blessed apostle Saint James. “Nevertheless,” Bernal 
 adds, “it may be that the person on the grey 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 probably quite 
 as credulous as the Spanish subjects of Charles the 
 Fifth. It is therefore conceivable that the appear¬ 
 ance of Castor and Pollux may have become an ar¬ 
 ticle 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 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 important addition 
 was made to the ceremonial by which the state an¬ 
 nually testified its gratitude for their protection. 
 Quintus Fabius and Publius Decius were elected Cen¬ 
 sors at a momentous crisis. It had become absolutely 
 necessary that the classification of the citizens should 
 
92 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 be revised. On the classification depended the dis¬ 
 tribution 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 cir¬ 
 cumstances, the most illustrious patrician and the 
 most illustrious plebeian of the age were intrusted 
 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 
 equestrian order; and, having effected this reform, 
 they determined to give to their work a sanction de¬ 
 rived from religion. In the chivalrous societies of 
 modern times, societies which have much more than 
 may at first sight appear in common with the eques¬ 
 trian order of Rome, it has been usual to invoke the 
 special protection of some Saint, and to observe his 
 day with peculiar solemnity. Thus the Companions of 
 the Garter wear the image of Saint George depend¬ 
 ing from their collars, and meet, on great occa- 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 93 
 
 sions, in Saint George’s Chapel. Thus, when Lewis 
 the Fourteenth instituted a new order of chivalry for 
 the rewarding of military merit, he commended it to 
 the favour 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 
 Lewis, should attend the king to chapel, should hear 
 mass, and should subsequently hold their great annual 
 assembly. There is a considerable resemblance between 
 this rule of the order of Saint Lewis and the rule 
 which Fabius and Decius made respecting the Roman 
 knights. It was ordained that a grand muster and 
 inspection of the equestrian body should be part of 
 the ceremonial performed, on the anniversary of the 
 battle of Regillus, in honour 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 suburbs. Thence they were to 
 ride in state to the Forum, where the temple of the 
 Twins stood. This pageant was, during several cen¬ 
 turies, considered as one of the most splendid sights 
 of Rome, In the time of Dionysius the cavaL 
 
94 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 cade sometimes consisted of five thousand horse¬ 
 men , all persons of fair repute and easy for¬ 
 tune. * 
 
 There can be no doubt that the Censors who in¬ 
 stituted this august ceremony acted in concert with 
 the Pontiffs to whom, by the constitution of Rome, 
 the superintendence of the public worship belonged; 
 and it is probable that those high religious functiona¬ 
 ries were, as usual, fortunate enough to find in their 
 books or traditions some warrant for the innova¬ 
 tion. 
 
 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 
 
 * See Livy, IX. 46. Val. Max. 11. 2. Aurel. Viet. De Viris Illustribus, 32, 
 Dionysius, vl. 13. Plin. Hist. Nat. xv. 5. See also the singularly ingenious 
 chapter in Niebuhr’s posthumous volume, Die Censur des Q. Fabius und 
 P, Deciiis, 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 95 
 
 Second Punic War a great feast was held in honour 
 of Juno, and a song was sung in her praise. This 
 song was extant when Livy wrote; and, though ex¬ 
 ceedingly rugged and uncouth, seemed to him not 
 wholly destitute of merit.* A song, as we learn 
 from Horace,** was part of the established ritual at 
 the great Secular Jubilee. It is therefore likely that 
 the Censors and Pontiffs, when they had resolved to 
 add a grand procession of knights to the other solem¬ 
 nities 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, 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 intro¬ 
 duce some wise and holy Pontiff enjoining the magni¬ 
 ficent ceremonial which, after a long interval, had at 
 
 * Livy, xxvii. 37. 
 
 ** Hor. Carmen Seculare. 
 
g6 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 length been adopted. If the poem succeeded, many 
 persons would commit it to memory. Parts of it 
 would be sung to the pipe at banquets. It would be 
 peculiarly interesting 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, pronounced the 
 funeral panegyric over the remains of Lucius Post- 
 humius 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 
 Livy. 
 
 Antiquaries differ widely as to the situation of the 
 field of battle. The opinion of those who suppose 
 that the armies met near Cornufelle, 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 accounts 
 which have come down to us. Those accounts, indeed, 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 97 
 
 differ widely from each other, and, in all probability, 
 differ as widely from the ancient poem from which 
 they were originally derived. 
 
 It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imi¬ 
 tations of the Iliad, which have been purposely intro¬ 
 duced. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 7 
 


 
 

THE 
 
 BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND POLLUX 
 ON THE IDES OF QUINTILIS, 
 
 IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCCLI. 
 
 I. 
 
 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. 
 
 7 
 
100 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 honour still. 
 
 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 bast. 
 
 They came o’er wild Parthenius 
 Tossing in waves of pine, 
 

BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 IOI 
 
 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. 
 
 m. 
 
 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. 
 
 Upon the turf by the Fair Fount 
 The reaper's pottage smokes. 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
BATTLE of the lake regillus. 
 
 103 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, Roman, when thou standest 
 •Upon that holy ground, 
 
 Look thou with heed on the dark rock 
 That girds the dark lake round 
 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 vows, 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. 
 
104 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 Latines 
 Did in our Forum stand; 
 
 And there he did his office, 
 
 A sceptre in his hand. 
 
 VI. 
 
 “Hear, Senators and people 
 Of the good town of Rome: 
 The Thirty Cities charge you 
 To bring the Tarquins home: 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 And if ye still be stubborn, 
 
 To work the Tarquins wrong, 
 The Thirty Cities warn you, 
 
 Look that your walls 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.— 
 
 Forth looked in wrath the eagle; 
 And carrion-kite and jay, 
 
 Soon as they saw his beak and claw, 
 Fled screaming far away.” 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 seasons of great peril 
 
 Tis 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 him be Dictator 
 
 For six months and no more, 
 
 And have a Master of the Knights, 
 And axes twenty-four.” 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 107 
 
 IX. 
 
 So Aulus was Dictator, 
 
 The man of seventy fights; 
 
 He made .Ebutius Elva 
 His Master of the Knights. 
 
 On the third morn thereafter, 
 
 At dawning of the day, 
 
 Did Aulus and Ebutius 
 Set forth with their array. 
 
 Sempronius Atratinus 
 
 Was left in charge at home 
 
 With boys, and with grey-headed men, 
 To keep the walls of Rome. 
 
 Hard by the Lake Regillus 
 
 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. 
 
io8 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 X. 
 
 Up rose the golden morning 
 Over the Porcian height, 
 
 The proud Ides of Quintilis 
 Marked evermore with white. 
 
 Not without secret trouble 
 Our bravest saw the foes; 
 
 For girt by threescore thousand spears, 
 The thirty standards rose. 
 
 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— 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 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 Laurentian jungle, 
 
 The wild hog’s reedy home; 
 
 From the green steeps whence Anio leaps 
 In floods of snow-white foam. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Aricia, Cora, Norba, 
 
 Velitrae, with the might 
 Of Setia and of Tusculum, 
 
 Were marshalled on the right: 
 
110 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 The 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-grey hue he rode; 
 
 Over his gilded armour 
 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: 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. I 11 
 
 With restless pace and haggard face 
 To his last field he came. 
 
 Men said he saw strange visions 
 Which none beside might see; 
 
 And that strange sounds were in his ears 
 Which none might hear but he. 
 
 A woman fair and stately, 
 
 But pale as are the dead, 
 
 Oft through the watches 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. 
 
 So spun she, and so sang she, 
 
 Until the east was grey, 
 
 Then pointed to her bleeding breast, 
 
 And shrieked, and fled away. 
 
I 12 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 succours: 
 
 There, in a dark stern ring, 
 
 The Roman exiles gathered close 
 Around the ancient king. 
 
 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 gripe, 
 
 ’Twas more with hate than age. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 Close at his side was Titus 
 On an Apulian steed, 
 
 Titus, the youngest Tarquin, 
 Too good for such a breed. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 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 morn, 
 The dust hung overhead; 
 
 And louder still and louder 
 Rose from the darkened field 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 8 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 114 
 
 The braying of the war-horns, 
 The clang of sword and shield, 
 The rush of squadrons sweeping 
 Like whirlwinds o’er the plain, 
 The shouting of the slayers, 
 
 And screeching of the slain. 
 
 xv. 
 
 False Sextus rode out foremost: 
 
 His look was high and bold; 
 
 His corslet was of bison’s hide. 
 Plated with steel and gold. 
 
 As glares the famished eagle 
 From the Digentian rock 
 O11 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; 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Sextus, 
 
 And hid him in the rear, 
 
 Behind the dark Lavinian ranks, 
 
 Bristling with crest and spear. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But far to north ^Ebutius, 
 
 The Master of the Knights, 
 
 Gave Tubero of Norba 
 To feed the Porcian kites. 
 
 8* 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 116 
 
 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. 
 HSbutius smote Mamilius 
 So fiercely on the shield 
 That the great lord of Tusculum 
 Well nigh rolled on the field. 
 
 Mamilius smote ^Ebutius, 
 
 With a good aim and true, 
 
 Just where the neck and shoulder join, 
 And pierced him through and through; 
 And brave AEbutius Elva 
 Fell swooning to the ground: 
 
 But a thick wall of bucklers 
 Encompassed him around. 
 
 His clients from the battle 
 Bare him some little space, 
 
battle of the lake regillus. 
 
 II7 
 
 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 broadsword 
 Upon proud Tarquin’s head. 
 
 He dropped the lance: he dropped the reins: 
 He fell as fall the dead. 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT HOME. 
 
 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 Cseso 
 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, who 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; 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 1 19 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Latines; 
 
 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. 
 
120 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 But fiercer grew the fighting 
 Around Valerius dead; 
 
 For Titus dragged him by the foot, 
 And Aulus by the head. 
 
 “On, Latines, on!” quoth Titus, 
 
 “See how the rebels fly!” 
 
 “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!” 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 121 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then tenfold round the body 
 The roar of battle rose, 
 
 Like the roar of a burning forest, 
 
 When a strong north wind blows. 
 
 Now backward, and now forward, 
 
 Rocked furiously the fray, 
 
 Till none could see Valerius, 
 
 And none wist where he lay. 
 
 For shivered arms and ensigns 
 Were heaped there in a mound, 
 
 And corpses stiff, and dying men 
 
 That writhed and gnawed the ground; 
 And wounded horses kicking, 
 
 And snorting purple foam: 
 
 Right well did such a couch befit 
 A Consular of Rome. 
 
122 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XX. 
 
 But north 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-grey charger, 
 
 I see the purple vest; 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 123 
 
 I see the golden helmet 
 
 That shines far off like flame; 
 So ever rides Mamilius, 
 
 Prince of the Latian name.” 
 
 XXII. 
 
 “Now hearken, Caius Cossus: 
 
 Spring on thy horse’s back; 
 Ride as the wolves of Apennine 
 Were all upon thy track; 
 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. 
 
124 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Loud 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. 
 
 Like corn before the sickle 
 The stout Lavinians fell, 
 
 Beneath the edge of the true sword 
 That kept the bridge so well. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 “Herminius! Aulus greets thee; 
 
 He bids thee come with speed, 
 To help our central battle; 
 
 For sore is there our need. 
 There wars the youngest Tarquin, 
 And there the Crest of Flame, 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 125 
 
 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.” 
 
 XXV. 
 
 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. 
 
126 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Right glad were all the Romans 
 Who, in that hour of dread, 
 
 Against great odds bare up the war 
 Around Valerius dead, 
 
 When from the south the cheering 
 Rose with a mighty swell; 
 
 “Herminius comes, Herminius, 
 
 Who kept the bridge so well!” 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 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!” 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 127 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 All round them paused the battle, 
 
 While met in mortal fray 
 
 The Roman and the Tusculan, 
 
 The horses black and grey. 
 
 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. 
 
128 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning, 
 
 The dark-grey 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. 
 
 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. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 29 
 
 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. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But, like a graven image, 
 
 Black Auster kept his place, 
 
 And ever wistfully he looked 
 Into his master’s face. 
 
 The raven-mane that daily, 
 
 With pats and fond caresses, 
 
 The young Herminia washed and combed, 
 And twined in even tresses, 
 
 And decked with coloured ribands 
 From her own gay attire, 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 9 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 130 
 
 Hung sadly o’er her father’s corpse 
 In carnage and in mire. 
 
 Forth with a shout sprang Titus, 
 
 And seized black Auster’s rein. 
 
 Then Aulus sware a fearful oath, 
 
 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. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 131 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 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.” 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 So spake he; 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 other know: 
 
 White as snow their armour was: 
 
 Their steeds were white as snow. 
 
 9 
 
132 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Never on earthly anvil 
 
 Did such rare armour 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: 
 Well Samothracia knows us; 
 Cyrene knows us well. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 133 
 
 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: 
 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! 
 
1 34 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Charge for the hearth of Vesta! 
 
 Charge for the Golden Shield! 
 Let no man stop to plunder, 
 
 But slay, and slay, and slay; 
 The Gods who live for ever 
 Are on our side to-day.” 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 Then the fierce trumpet-flourish 
 From earth to heaven arose, 
 
 The kites know well the long stern swell 
 That bids the Romans close. 
 
 Then the good sword of Aulus 
 Was lifted up to slay: 
 
 Then, like a crag down Apennine, 
 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. 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 135 
 
 Behind them Rome’s long battle 
 Came rolling on the foe, 
 
 Ensigns dancing wild above, 
 
 Blades all in line below. 
 
 So comes the Po in flood-time 
 Upon the Celtic plain: 
 
 So comes 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; 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 The footmen of Velitrae 
 
 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 Flavius Faustus, 
 
 Who led his stately ranks 
 From where the apple blossoms wave 
 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: 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 137 
 
 And fliers and pursuers 
 Were mingled in a mass; 
 
 And far away the battle 
 
 Went roaring through the pass. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 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 
 Who 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; 
 
138 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 daylight, 
 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. 
 
 So like they were, man never 
 Saw twins so like before; 
 
 Red with gore their armour was, 
 
 Their steeds were red with 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! 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 
 
 139 
 
 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!” 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 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. 
 
 On rode they to the Forum, 
 
 While laurel-boughs and flowers, 
 
 From house-tops and from windows, 
 
 Fell on their crests in showers. 
 
140 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 XL. 
 
 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. 
 

 
 
BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS. 14 1 
 
 Safe comes the ship to haven, 
 
 Through billows and through gales, 
 
 If once the Great Twin Brethren 
 Sit shining on the sails. 
 
 Wherefore they washed their horses 
 In Vesta’s holy well, 
 
 Wherefore 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 
 Be hung with garlands all, 
 
142 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 

VIRGINIA. 
 
 A Collection consisting exclusively of war-songs 
 would give an imperfect, or rather an erroneous, no¬ 
 tion of the spirit of the old Latin ballads. The Pa¬ 
 tricians, during more than a century after the expul¬ 
 sion of the Kings, held all the high military commands. 
 A Plebeian, even though, like Lucius Siccius, he were 
 distinguished by his valour 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 preceding lays, Horatius, Lartius, Herminius, 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. IO 
 
146 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Aulus Posthumius, PEbutius Elva, Sempronius Atra- 
 tinus, Valerius Poplicola, were all members 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 belonged, and from reflect¬ 
 ing on the system which had placed such men 
 at the head of the legions of the Common¬ 
 wealth. 
 
 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 poeti¬ 
 cal colouring than those which relate to the long con¬ 
 test between the privileged houses and the com¬ 
 monalty. The population of Rome was, from a very 
 early period, divided into hereditary castes, which, in¬ 
 deed, 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 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 147 
 
 separated an Icilius or a Duilius from a Posthumius 
 or a Fabius was even more deeply marked than that 
 which separated the rower of a gondola from a Con- 
 tarini or a Morosini. At Venice the distinction was 
 merely civil. At Rome it was both civil and reli¬ 
 gious. Among the grievances under which the Ple¬ 
 beians suffered, three were felt as peculiarly severe. 
 They were excluded from the highest magistracies; 
 they were excluded 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 monied 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 
 sovereign 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. 
 
 10 
 
148 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Children often became slaves in consequence of the 
 misfortunes of their parents. The debtor was impri¬ 
 soned, not in a public gaol under the care of impar¬ 
 tial 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 honourable 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, considerable though not proportioned to their 
 numerical strength, in the disposal of those high dig¬ 
 nities from which they were themselves excluded. 
 Thus their position bore some resemblance to that of 
 the Irish Catholics during the interval between the 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 149 
 
 year 1792 and the year 1829. The Plebeians had also 
 the privilege of annually appointing officers, named 
 Tribunes, who had no active share in the govern¬ 
 ment 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 institution 
 of the Tribuneship, the Commons struggled manfully 
 for the removal of the grievances under which they 
 laboured; and, in spite of many checks and reverses, 
 succeeded in wringing 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, 
 
150 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME, 
 
 Lucius Sextius. 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 retained 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 narrative which has 
 come down to us is to be trusted, they continued to 
 exert, to the full extent, 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 par¬ 
 ties rose to the greatest height. The excitement, we 
 may well suppose, would have been peculiarly intense 
 at the annual election of Tribunes. On such occasions 
 there can be little doubt that the great families did all 
 that could be done, by threats and caresses, to break 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 I5I 
 
 the union of the Plebeians. That union, however, 
 proved indissoluble. At length the good cause 
 triumphed. The Licinian laws were carried. Lucius 
 Sextius was the first Plebeian Consul, Caius Licinius 
 the third. 
 
 The results of this great change were singularly 
 happy and glorious. Two centuries of prosperity, har¬ 
 mony, and victory followed the reconciliation of the 
 orders. Men who remembered Rome engaged in 
 waging petty wars almost within sight of the Capitol 
 lived to see her the mistress of Italy. While the dis¬ 
 abilities of the Plebeians continued, she was scarcely able 
 to maintain her ground against the Yolscians and Her- 
 nicans. When those disabilities were removed, she 
 rapidly became more than a match for Carthage and 
 Macedon. 
 
 During the great Licinian contest the Plebeian 
 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 printing was unknown, and where 
 
152 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 com¬ 
 mon 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 no¬ 
 bility. For in the Twelve Tables, long before the 
 time of the 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 never 
 been rivalled. It was not, like their tragedy, their 
 
 * Cicero justly infers from this law that there had been early Latin poets 
 whose works had been lost before his time. “ Quamquam id quidem etiam 
 xii tabulae declarant, condi jam turn solitum esse carmen, quod ne liceret fieri 
 ad alterius injuriam lege sanxerunt.”— Tusc. iv. 2. 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 153 
 
 comedy, their epic and lyric poetry, a hot-house 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 flavour of the Ausonian 
 soil. “Satire,” said Quinctilian, with just pride, “is 
 all our own.” Satire sprang, in truth, naturally from 
 the constitution of the Roman government and from 
 the spirit of the Roman people; and, though at length 
 subjected to metrical rules derived from Greece, re¬ 
 tained to the last an essentially Roman character. Lu- 
 cilius was the earliest satirist whose works were held 
 in esteem under the Caesars. But many years before 
 Lucilius was born, Naevius had been flung into a dun¬ 
 geon, and guarded there with circumstances of unusual 
 rigour, on account of the bitter lines in which he had 
 attacked the great Caecilian family.* The genius and 
 spirit of the Roman satirists survived the liberty of 
 their country, and were not extinguished by the cruel 
 despotism of the Julian and Flavian Emperors. The 
 
 * Plautus, Miles Gloriosus. Aulus Gellius, in. 3. 
 
154 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 great poet who told the story of Domitian’s turbot, 
 was the legitimate successor of those forgotten min¬ 
 strels whose songs animated the factions of the infant 
 Republic. 
 
 Those minstrels, as Niebuhr has remarked, appear 
 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 dishonourable 
 to a noble house, would be sought out, brought into 
 notice, and exaggerated. The illustrious head of the 
 aristocratical party, Marcus Furius Camillus, might 
 perhaps be, in some measure, protected by his vene¬ 
 rable age and by the memory of his great services 
 to the State. But Appius Claudius Crassus enjoyed 
 no such immunity. He was descended from a long 
 line of ancestors distinguished by their haughty de¬ 
 meanour, and by the inflexibility with which they 
 had withstood all the demands of the Plebeian order. 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 155 
 
 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 a military Commonwealth, is suf¬ 
 ficient 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 distinguished by 
 skill or valour. 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 
 intrusted with an army, and had failed ignominiously. ** 
 None of them had been honoured with a triumph. 
 None of them had achieved any martial exploit, such 
 as those by which Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, Titus 
 Quinctius Capitolinus, Aulus Cornelius Cossus, and 
 
 * In the years of the city 260, 304, and 330. 
 
 ** In the year of the city 282. 
 
156 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 above all, the great Camillus, had extorted the re¬ 
 luctant esteem of the multitude. During the Licinian 
 conflict, Appius Claudius Crassus signalised himself 
 by the ability and severity with which he harangued 
 against the two great agitators. He would natu¬ 
 rally, therefore, be the favourite mark of the Ple¬ 
 beian 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 Clau¬ 
 dius, had left a name as much detested as that of 
 Sextus Tarquinius. This elder Appius had been 
 Consul more than seventy years before the intro¬ 
 duction 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 Tri- 
 buneship, 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 administration 
 had become universally odious. It had been swept 
 away by an irresistible outbreak of popular fury; 
 and its memory was still held in abhorrence by the 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 157 
 
 whole city. 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 young girl of humble birth. The story 
 ran that the Decemvir, unable to succeed by bribes 
 and solicitations, resorted to an outrageous act of ty¬ 
 ranny. A vile dependent 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 dishonour 
 by stabbing her to the heart in the sight of the whole 
 Forum. That blow was the signal for a general ex¬ 
 plosion. Camp and city rose at once; the Ten were 
 pulled down; the Tribuneship was re-established; and 
 Appius escaped the hands of the executioner only by 
 a voluntary death. 
 
 It can hardly be doubted that a story so admirably 
 adapted to the purposes both of the poet and of the 
 demagogue would be eagerly seized upon by minstrels 
 burning with hatred against the Patrician order, 
 
158 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 against the Claudian house, and especially against 
 the grandson and namesake of the infamous De¬ 
 cemvir. 
 
 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 re- 
 election of Sextius and Licinius. All the power of 
 the Patricians has been exerted to throw out the two 
 great champions of the Commons. Every Posthumius, 
 ^Emilius, 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 fa¬ 
 vourite candidates: Appius Claudius 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 shoul¬ 
 ders the two champions of liberty through the Forum. 
 Just at this moment it is announced that a popular 
 poet, a zealous adherent of the Tribunes, has made 
 a new song which will cut the Claudian nobles to the 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 159 
 
 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 pandar of Appius, 
 and he begins his story. 
 

 
 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 FRAGMENTS OF A LAY SUNG IN THE FORUM ON THE DAY 
 WHEREON LUCIUS SEXTIUS SEXTINUS LATERANUS AND 
 CAIUS LICINIUS CALVUS STOLO WERE ELECTED TRIBUNES 
 OF THE COMMONS THE FIFTH TIME, IN THE YEAR OF 
 THE CITY CCCLXXXII. 
 
 Ye good men of the Commons, with loving hearts 
 and true, 
 
 Who stand by the bold Tribunes that still have stood 
 by you, 
 
 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. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome . 
 
 II 
 
l6 2 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 fear¬ 
 ful day, 
 
 Just seventy years and seven ago, when the wicked 
 Ten bare sway. 
 
 Of all the wicked Ten still the names are held ac¬ 
 cursed, 
 
 And of all the wicked 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; 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 63 
 
 The townsmen shrank to right and left, and eyed 
 askance with fear 
 
 His lowering brow, his curling mouth which alway 
 seemed to sneer: 
 
 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 errand 
 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; 
 
 1 
 
164 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 gaily to herself lines of the good old 
 
 song, 
 


VIRGINIA. 
 
 165 
 
 How for a sport the princes came spurring from the 
 camp, 
 
 And -found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under the 
 midnight lamp. 
 
 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 vulture eye pursued the trip of those small 
 glancing feet. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Over the Alban mountains the light of morning 
 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: 
 
166 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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! 
 
 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 features, and 
 clenched fist, 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 167 
 
 And strode across Virginia’s path, and caught her by 
 the wrist. 
 
 Hard strove the frighted 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 silver 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; 
 
 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, 
 
168 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 “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. 
 
 ’Twas in the sad September, the month of wail 
 and fright, 
 
 Two augurs were borne forth that morn; the Consul 
 died ere night. 
 
 I wait on Appius Claudius, I waited on his sire: 
 
 Let him who works the client wrong beware the pa¬ 
 tron’s ire!” 
 
 So spake the varlet Marcus; and dread and silence 
 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, 
 
 Which makes the rich man tremble, and guards the 
 poor man’s right. 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 69 
 
 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 minstrel 
 sung, 
 
 Whereon three mouldering helmets, three rusting 
 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. 
 
170 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 “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 
 Lucrece bleed? 
 
 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 vile fox-earth awe the race that stormed the 
 lion’s den? 
 
 Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to 
 the wicked Ten? 
 
 Oh for that ancient spirit which curbed the Senate’s 
 will! 
 
 Oh for the tents which in old time whitened the 
 Sacred Hill! 
 
 In those brave days our fathers stood firmly side by 
 side; 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 171 
 
 They faced the Martian 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 hopours—’twas in vain: for freedom— 
 ’tis 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. 
 
172 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft may 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; 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 173 
 
 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, 
 
 And breathe of Capuan odours, 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, 
 
*74 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 father’s breast 
 with pride; 
 
 Still let the bridegroom’s arms infold an unpolluted 
 bride. 
 
 Spare us the inexpiable wrong, the unutterable 
 shame, 
 
 That turns the coward’s heart to steel, the sluggard’s 
 blood to flame, 
 
 Lest, when our latest hope is fled, ye taste of our 
 despair, 
 
 And learn by proof, in some wild hour, how much the 
 wretched dare.” 
 
 * * * * * 
 *#•*** 
 Straightway Virginius led the maid a little space 
 aside, 
 
 To where the reeking shambles stood, piled up with 
 horn and hide, 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 175 
 
 Close to yon low dark archway, where, in a crimson 
 flood, 
 
 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 be¬ 
 gan to swell, 
 
 And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, “Farewell, 
 sweet child! Farewell! 
 
 Oh! how I loved my darling! Though stern I some¬ 
 times be, 
 
 To thee, thou know’st, I was not so. Who 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! 
 
 And how she danced with pleasure to see my civic 
 
 crown, 
 
176 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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, 
 
 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! 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 177 
 
 With all his wit, he little deems, that, spurned, be¬ 
 trayed, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 aiuain; 
 
 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 wound. 
 
 In vain they ran, and felt, and stanched; for never 
 truer blow 
 
 That good right arm had dealt in fight against a 
 Volscian foe. 
 
 When Appius Claudius saw that deed, he shuddered 
 and sank down, 
 
 And hid his face some little space with the corner of 
 his gown, 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 79 
 
 Till, with white lips and bloodshot eyes, Virginius 
 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 between us 
 twain; 
 
 And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and 
 mine, 
 
 Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian 
 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. 
 
 12 
 
i8o 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 way in silence 
 cleft, 
 
 Ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and 
 left. 
 
 And he hath passed in safety unto his woeful 
 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, 
 
 And streets and porches round were filled with that 
 o’erflowing tide; 
 
VIRGINIA. I 8 I 
 
 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 fury 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, 
 
182 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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, 
 
 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, cursing, 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. 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 1 83 
 
 ’Twas well the lictors might not pierce to where the 
 maiden lay, 
 
 Else surely had they been all twelve torn limb from 
 limb that day. 
 
 Right glad they were to struggle back, blood stream¬ 
 ing 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; 
 
 “See, see, thou dog! what thou hast done; and hide 
 thy shame in hell! 
 
 Thou that wouldst 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 
 
8 4 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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, 
 
 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 colour like a maid at sight of sword and 
 shield. 
 
 The Claudian triumphs all were won within the city 
 towers; 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 185 
 
 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 shouting 
 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 ’twas 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!” 
 
 While yet he spake, and looked around with a be¬ 
 wildered stare, , 
 
 Four sturdy lictors* put their necks beneath the curule 
 chair; 
 
186 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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 sword, 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 down: 
 
 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 tattered 
 sail 
 
 When raves the Adriatic beneath an eastern 
 gale, 
 
 When the Calabrian sea-marks are. lost in clouds of 
 
 spume, 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
VIRGINIA. 
 
 187 
 
 And the great Thunder-Cape has donned his veil of 
 inky gloom. 
 
 One stone hit Appius in the mouth, and one beneath 
 the ear; 
 
 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 grand¬ 
 son be! 
 
 God send Rome one such other sight, and send me 
 there to see! 
 

THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 It can hardly be necessary to remind any reader 
 that according to the popular tradition, Romulus, after 
 he had slain his grand-uncle Amulius, and restored 
 his grandfather Numitor, determined to quit Alba, the 
 hereditary domain of the Sylvian princes, and to found 
 a new city. The Gods, it was added, vouchsafed the 
 clearest signs of the favour with which they regarded 
 the enterprise, and of the high destinies reserved for 
 the young colony. 
 
 This event was likely to be a favourite theme of 
 the old Latin minstrels. They would naturally attri¬ 
 bute the project of Romulus to some divine intimation 
 
* 9 2 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 of the power and prosperity which it was decreed that 
 his city should attain. They would probably introduce 
 seers foretelling the victories of unborn Consuls and 
 Dictators, and the last great victory would generally 
 occupy the most conspicuous place in the prediction. 
 There is nothing strange in the supposition that the 
 poet who was employed to celebrate the first great 
 triumph of the Romans over the Greeks might throw 
 his song of exultation 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 retribution. 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 Tarentum, with 
 charge to demand reparation for grievous injuries. 
 The Tarentines gave him audience in their theatre, 
 where he addressed them in such Greek as he could 
 command, which, we may well believe, was not ex¬ 
 actly 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 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 19 3 
 
 a strong propensity to flippancy 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 con¬ 
 stant drunkenness, was nicknamed the Pint-pot, came 
 up with gestures of the grossest indecency, and be¬ 
 spattered the senatorial gown with filth. Posthumius 
 turned round to the multitude, and held up the gown, 
 as if appealing to the universal law of nations. The 
 sight only increased the insolence of the Tarentines. 
 They clapped their hands, and set up a shout of laugh¬ 
 ter which shook the theatre. “Men of Tarentum,” said 
 Posthumius, “it will 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. Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, 
 came to their help with a large army; and, for the first 
 
 * Dion. Hal. De Legationibus. 
 Lays of ancient Rome . 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 time, the two 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 cap¬ 
 tains, still reigned at Antioch and Alexandria. That 
 barbarian warriors, led by barbarian chiefs, should 
 win a pitched battle against Greek valour 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 countrymen were irresistible in war; and this 
 conviction had emboldened them to treat with the 
 grossest indignity one whom they regarded as the re¬ 
 presentative 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 
 Epirotes ranked high. His expedition to Italy was a 
 turning-point in the history of the world. He found 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 195 
 
 there a people who, far inferior to the Athenians and 
 Corinthians in the fine arts, in the speculative sciences, 
 and in all the refinements 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 intrench- 
 ment, 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 great native commanders. The 
 first words which broke from the king, when his prac¬ 
 tised 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 victorious; 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 
 
 * Anguimanus is the old Latin epithet for an elephant. Lucretius, 
 11. 538. v. 1302. 
 
 13 
 
196 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 altogether unprofitable. At length, Manius Curius 
 Dentatus, who had in his first Consulship 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 people had 
 been discovered, who, in fair fighting, were superior 
 to the best troops that had been drilled on 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 Macedonian 
 spear. The legion had broken the Macedonian pha¬ 
 lanx. Even the elephants, when the surprise produced 
 by their first appearance was over, could cause no dis¬ 
 order in the steady yet flexible battalions of Rome. 
 
 It is said by Florus, and may easily be believed, 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 197 
 
 that the triumph far surpassed in magnificence any 
 that Rome had previously seen. The only spoils 
 which Papirius Cursor and Fabius Maximus could ex- 
 hibit were flocks and herds, waggons 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 
 furniture, rare animals, exquisite paintings and 
 sculptures, formed part of the procession. At the 
 banquet would be assembled a crowd of warriors and 
 statesmen, among whom Manius Curius Dentatus would 
 take the highest room. Caius Fabricius Luscinus, then, 
 after two Consulships and two triumphs, Censor of the 
 Commonwealth, would doubtless occupy a place of 
 honour at the board. In situations less conspicuous 
 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 Regulus, who owed to defeat a renown far 
 higher than that which he had derived from his 
 victories; and Caius Lutatius Catulus, who, while suf¬ 
 fering from a grievous wound, fought the great battle 
 
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 of the Agates, and brought the first Punic war to a 
 triumphant close. It is impossible to recount the names 
 of these eniment 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 prevailed against Pyrrhus 
 and Hamilcar. 
 
 On such a day we may suppose that the patriotic 
 enthusiasm of a Latin poet would vent itself in re¬ 
 iterated shouts of Io triumphe , 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 especially of the Greeks, in the lazy arts of peace, 
 would be admitted with disdainful candour; 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. Naevius and Livius Andronicus were 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 IQ9 
 
 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 ex¬ 
 pected, 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 troubles himself little about 
 dates, and having heard travellers talk with admiration 
 of the Colossus of Rhodes, and of the structures and 
 gardens with which the Macedonian kings of Syria 
 had embellished their residence on the banks of the 
 Orontes, he has never thought of inquiring whether 
 these things existed in the age of Romulus. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 6 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 A LAY SUNG AT THE BANQUET IN THE CAPITOL, ON THE 
 DAY WHEREON MANIUS CURIUS DENTATUS, A SECOND 
 TIME CONSUL, TRIUMPHED OVER KING PYRRHUS AND THE 
 TARENTINES, IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCCLXXIX. 
 
 Now slain is King Amulius, 
 
 Of the great Sylvian line, 
 
 Who reigned in Alba Longa, 
 
 On the throne of Aventine. 
 Slain is the Pontiff Camers, 
 
 Who spake the words of doom: 
 “The children to the Tiber, 
 
 The mother to the tomb.” 
 
202 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 HI. 
 
 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. 
 

THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 203 
 
 IV. 
 
 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. 
 
 v. 
 
 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. 
 
204 
 
 LAYS' OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
 VII. 
 
 On the right goes Romulus, 
 With arms to the elbows red, 
 And in his hand a broadsword, 
 And on the blade a head— 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 205 
 
 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. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 On the left side goes Remus, 
 With wrists and fingers red, 
 And in his hand 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— 
 
206 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 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. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 207 
 
 X. 
 
 So they marched along the lake; 
 
 They marched by fold and stall, 
 By corn-field and by vineyard, 
 Unto the old man’s hall. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In the hall-gate sate Capys, 
 
 Capys, the sightless seer; 
 
 From head to foot he trembled 
 As Romulus drew near. 
 
 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 wondrous sire! 
 
208 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XII. 
 
 “But thou—what dost thou here 
 In the old man’s peaceful hall? 
 What doth the eagle in the coop, 
 
 The bison in the stall? 
 
 Our corn 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: 
 
 Thou shalt not drink from amber; 
 
 Thou shalt not rest on down; 
 Arabia shall not steep thy locks, 
 
 Nor Sidon tinge thy gown. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 209 
 
 XIV. 
 
 “Leave gold and myrrh and jewels, 
 
 Rich table and soft bed, 
 
 To them 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-wolfs breast. 
 
 xv. 
 
 “From sunrise unto sunset 
 All earth shall hear thy fame: 
 
 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. 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome . 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 “The ox toils through the furrow, 
 Obedient to the goad; 
 
 The patient ass, up flinty paths, 
 Plods with his weary 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 dying-hounds. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 2 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 “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, 
 
 In April’s ivory moonlight 
 Beneath the chestnut shade. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 “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 conquered town. 
 
 14* 
 
2 12 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XX. 
 
 “And such as is the War-god, 
 
 The author of thy line, 
 
 And such as she who suckled thee, 
 Even 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; 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 213 
 
 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 vail his lofty brow: 
 
 Soft Capua’s curled revellers 
 Before thy chairs shall bow: 
 
 The Lucumoes of Arnus 
 
 Shall quake thy rods to see; 
 
 And the proud Samnite’s heart of steel 
 Shall yield to only thee. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 “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. 
 
214 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 “The Greek shall come against thee, 
 The conqueror of the East. 
 
 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. 
 
 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: 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 215 
 
 And Apennine’s grey vultures 
 Shall have a noble feast 
 
 On the fat and the eyes 
 
 Of the huge earth-shaking beast. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 “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. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 “Hurrah! for the great triumph 
 That stretches many a mile. 
 
 Hurrah! for the wan captives 
 That pass in endless file. 
 
2 l6 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 Ho! bold Epirotes, 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 
 Tom from the pheasant’s wings, 
 The belts set thick with starry gems 
 That shone on Indian kings, 
 
 The urns of massy silver, 
 
 The goblets rough with gold, 
 
 The many-coloured 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. 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 2 17 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 “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 twine 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, 
 
2l8 
 
 LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME. 
 
 And through the bellowing Forum, 
 And round the Suppliant’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; 
 
THE PROPHECY OF CAPYS. 
 
 2 ig 
 
 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.” 
 

I V R Y: 
 
 A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 
 
Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all 
 glories are! 
 
 And glory to our 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, oh 
 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. 
 
224 
 
 ivry: 
 
 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¬ 
 varre. 
 
 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 truncheon in 
 his hand: 
 
A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 
 
 225 
 
 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 armour 
 drest, 
 
 And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gal¬ 
 lant 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. 
 
 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.” 
 
 Lays of ancient Rome. 
 
 5 
 
226 
 
 IVRY: 
 
 “An 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 Na¬ 
 varre.” 
 
 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 Al- 
 mayne. 
 
 Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 
 France, 
 
 Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the 
 lance. 
 
A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 22J 
 
 A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears 
 in rest, 
 
 A thousand knights are pressing close behind the 
 snow-white crest; 
 
 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. Mayenne 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 Saint Bartholomew,” was passed from man 
 to man. 
 
 5 
 
22 
 
 IVRY: 
 
 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. 
 
 But we of the religion have borne us best in 
 fight; 
 
 And the good Lord 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. 
 
 
A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 
 
 229 
 
 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 loud¬ 
 est point of war, 
 
 Fling the red shreds, a footcloth meet for Henry of 
 Navarre. 
 
 Ho! maidens of Vienna; Ho! matrons of Lu¬ 
 cerne; 
 
 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. 
 
230 
 
 IVRY: A SONG OF THE HUGUENOTS. 
 
 For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath 
 raised the slave, 
 
 And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valour 
 of the brave. 
 
 Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories 
 are; 
 
 And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of 
 Navarre. 
 
 1824. 
 
THE ARMADA 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^- 
 
 
THE ARMADA. 
 
 Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England’s 
 praise; 
 
 I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in an¬ 
 cient 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 summer 
 day, 
 
 There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Ply- 
 mouth Bay; 
 
23 4 
 
 THE ARMADA: 
 
 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 especial 
 grace; 
 
 And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in 
 chase. 
 
 Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the 
 wall; 
 
 The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe’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; 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 235 
 
 * 
 
 For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her 
 Grace. 
 
 And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the 
 bells, 
 
 As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon 
 swells. 
 
 Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient 
 crown, 
 
 And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies 
 down. 
 
 So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed 
 Picard field, 
 
 Bohemia’s plume, and Genoa’s bow, and Caesar’s eagle 
 shield. 
 
 So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned 
 to bay, 
 
 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: 
 
236 
 
 THE ARMADA: 
 
 Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her 
 wide; 
 
 Our glorious semper eadem, the banner of our 
 pride. 
 
 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 de^p the Spaniard saw, along each southern 
 shire, 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 237 
 
 Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling 
 points of fire. 
 
 The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar’s glittering 
 waves: 
 
 The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip’s sun¬ 
 less caves: 
 
 O’er Longleat’s towers, o’er Cranbourne’s oaks, the 
 fiery herald flew: 
 
 He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, 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 deathlike 
 silence broke, 
 
 And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city 
 woke. 
 
238 
 
 THE aramda: 
 
 At once on all her stately gates arose the answering 
 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 furthest wards was heard the rush of 
 hurrying feet, 
 
 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 spur¬ 
 ring in: 
 
 And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the war¬ 
 like errand went, 
 
 And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant 
 squires of Kent. 
 
 Southward from Surrey’s pleasant hills flew those 
 bright couriers forth; 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 239 
 
 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 Darwin’s 
 rocky dales, 
 
 Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of 
 Wales, 
 
 Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern’s 
 lonely height, 
 
 Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin’s 
 crest of light, 
 
 Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely’s 
 stately fane, 
 
 And tower and hamlet rose in arms o’er all the 
 boundless plain; 
 
 Till Belvoir’s lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln 
 sent, 
 
 And Lincoln sped the message on o’er the wide vale 
 of Trent; 
 
240 
 
 THE ARMADA: A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt’s 
 embattled pile, 
 
 And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of 
 Carlisle. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 1832. 
 
 THE END.