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Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear
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 armor, and spent with changing
blows: And oft they thought him sinking — but still again
Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing
place: But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave
heart within, And our good Father Tiber bare bravely up his chin.
“Curse on him !” quoth false Sextus; “will not the
villain drown ? But for his 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.”
And now he feels the bottom;
now on dry earth
HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE
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
The woods with living airs
Till at thy chuckled note,
For now the Heavenly Power
And thaws the cold, and fills
The Bugle Song
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going !
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing !
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
And grow forever and forever.