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The want that keep their silence, till from Thee
They hear the gracious summons, none beside
Hath spoken to the world-worn, “Come to me,”
Tell forth their heavy secrets.

Thou dost hide
These in Thy bosom, and not these alone,
But all our heart's fond treasure that had grown
A burden eise: 0 Saviour, tears were weighed
To Thee in plenteous measure! none hath shown
That Thou did'st smile! yet hast Thou surely made
All joy of ours Thine own;

Thou madest us for Thine;
We seek amiss, we wander to and fro;
Yet are we ever on the track Divine;
The soul confesseth Thee, but sense is slow
To lean on aught but that which it may see;
So hath it crowded up these Courts below
With dark and broken images of Thee ;
Lead Thou us forth upon Thy Mount, and show
Thy goodly patterns, whence these things of old
By Thee were fashioned ; One though manifold.
Gloss Thou Thy perfect likeness in the soul,
Show us Thy countenance, and we are whoLE !

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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.

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The Three stood calm and silent,

And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter

From all the vanguard rose:
And forth three chiefs came spurring

Before that mighty mass;

To earth they sprang, their swords they drew And lifted high their shields, and flew

To win the narrow pass.

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.

Was none who would be foremost

To lead such dire attack;
But those behind cried “ Forward!”

And those before cried « Back!”
And backward now and forward

Wavers the deep array ;
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal

Dies fitfully away.

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."

Thrice looked he on the city;

Thrice looked he on the dead; And thrice came on in fury,

And thrice turned back in dread; And, white with fear and hatred,

Scowled at the narrow way

Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,

The bravest Tuscans lay.

But meanwhile axe and lever

Have manfully been plied,
And now the bridge hangs tottering

Above the boiling tide.
36 Come back, come back, Horatius!”

Loud cried the Fathers all. ** Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!

Back, ere the ruin fall!”

Back darted Spurius Lartius;

Herminius darted back:
And, as they passed, beneath their feet

They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,

And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone,

They would have crossed once more.

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.

And like a horse unbroken

When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard,

And tossed his tawny mane;
And burst the curb, and bounded,

Rejoicing to be free:
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,

Rushed headlong to the sea.

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.” Round turned he, as not deigning

Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,

To Sextus naught spake he; But he saw on Palatinus

The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river

That rolls by the towers of Rome. « 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.

No sound of joy or sorrow

Was heard from either bank ; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes,

Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges

They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany

Could scarce forbear to cheer.

But fiercely ran the current,

Swollen high by months of rain : And fast his blood was flowing;

And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armour,

And spent with changing blows : And oft they thought him sinking,

But still again he rose. Never, I ween, did swimmer,

In such an evil case,

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