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
plainlyNow 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
plainlyNow 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