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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.

III
The horsemen and the footmen

Are pouring in amain
From many a stately market-place,

From many a fruitful plain,
From many a lonely hamlet,

Which, hid by beech and pine,
Like an eagle's nest, hangs on the crest

Of purple Apennine;
IV

From lordly Volaterr?
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 Pis?

Queen of the western waves,
Where ride Massilia's triremes

Heavy with fair-haired slaves;
From where sweet Clanis wanders

Through corn and vines and flowers;
From where Cortona lifts to heaven

Her diadem of towers.
VI

Tall are the oaks whose acorns
Drop in dark Auser's rill;

Fat are the stags that champ the boughs
Of the Ciminian hill;

Beyond all streams Clitumnus
Is to the herdsman dear;

Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere.

VII
But now no stroke of woodman

Is heard by Auser's rill;
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 Volsminian mere.
VIII

The harvests of Arretium,
This year, old men shall reap;

This year, young boys in Umbro
Shall plunge the struggling sheep;

And in the vats of Luna,
This year, the must shall foam

Round the white feet of laughing girls
Whose sires have marched to Rome.

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.
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.
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.

XIII
But by the yellow Tiber

Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign

To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city,

The throng stopped up the ways;
A fearful sight it was to see

Through two long nights and days.
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 wagons

That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods,

Choked every roaring gate.
XVI

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy

The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.

The Fathers of the City,
They sat all night and day,

For every hour some horseman come
With tidings of dismay.

XVII
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.
XVIII

I wis, in all the Senate,
There was no heart so bold,

But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
When that ill news was told.

Forthwith up rose the Consul,
Up rose the Fathers all;

In haste they girded up their gowns,
And hied them to the wall.

XIX
They held a council standing,

Before the River-Gate;
Short time was there, ye well may guess,

For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:

``The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,

Nought else can save the town.''
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 Consol fixed his eye,

And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.

XXI
And nearer fast and nearer

Doth the red whirlwind come;
And louder still and still more loud,

From underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud,

The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly

Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left and far to right,

In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,

The long array of spears.
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.

XXIII
And plainly and more plainly

Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest, by horse and crest,

Each warlike Lucumo.
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


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