Journeys Through Bookland, Volume 6 | Page 6

CLARK TOOK THE LEAD _R.
F. Babcock_ 433
WE MET AT THE CHURCH _R.
F. Babcock_ 449
"WELL, THEN, BOBBY, MY BOY"

_Herbert N. Rudeen_ 455
IN KATE, HOWEVER, I HAD A FIRM FRIEND
_Herbert N. Rudeen_ 458
"FAITH, I WISH YOU'D TAKE ME!"
_Herbert N. Rudeen_ 465
HE SOON SEES A FARMHOUSE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE
_Herbert N. Rudeen_ 468
THE SQUIRE'S LIBRARY _Iris
Weddell White_ 475
"THERE GOES MY INK!"
_Lucille Enders_ 479
HORATIUS
_By_ LORD MACAULAY
NOTE.--This spirited poem by Lord Macaulay is founded on one of the
most popular Roman legends. While the story is based on facts, we can
by no means be certain that all of the details are historical.
According to Roman legendary history, the Tarquins, Lucius
Tarquinius Priscus and Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, were among the
early kings of Rome. The reign of the former was glorious, but that of
the latter was most unjust and tyrannical. Finally the unscrupulousness
of the king and his son reached such a point that it became unendurable
to the people, who in 509 B. C. rose in rebellion and drove the entire
family from Rome. Tarquinius Superbus appealed to Lars Porsena, the
powerful king of Clusium for aid and the story of the expedition against
Rome is told in this poem.
Lars Porsena of Clusium[1-1]
By the Nine Gods[1-2] 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.
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.
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;

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[2-3]
By mighty seers of yore.
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[3-4] altars
The golden shields of Rome."
And now hath every city
Sent up her tale[3-5] of men:
The foot are
fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousand ten.
Before the gates of
Sutrium[3-6]
Is met the great array.
A proud man was Lars Porsena

Upon the trysting day.
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[3-7] name.
But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the
spacious champaign[3-8]
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.
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
sunburnt husbandmen
With reaping-hooks and staves,
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.
Now, from the rock Tarpeian[4-9]
Could the wan burghers spy
The
line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the
City,[5-10]
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some
horseman came
With tidings of dismay.
To eastward and to westward
Have spread the Tuscan bands;
Nor
house nor fence