Narrative and Lyric Poems (first series) for use in the Lower School | Page 2

keen"--?But aye she loot the tears down fa' 15?For Jock o' Hazeldean.
"A chain of gold ye sall not lack,?Nor braid to bind your hair;?Nor mettled hound, nor managed[3] hawk,?Nor palfrey fresh and fair; 20?And you, the foremost o' them a'?Shall ride our forest-queen"--?But aye she loot the tears down fa'?For Jock o' Hazeldean.
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide, 25?The tapers glimmer'd fair;?The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,?And dame and knight are there.?They sought her baith by bower and ha'.?The ladie was not seen! 30?She's o'er the border, and awa'?Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!
--Scott
[1] sall. shall.
[2] loot. let.
[3] managed. trained.
HORATIUS.
A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCLX.
According to legend, Tarquinius Superbus, or Tarquin the Proud, the last of the early kings of Rome, was driven out of the city, partly on account of his own tyranny, and partly because of the misdeeds of his son Sextus Tarquin. The immediate cause of the expulsion of the Tarquins was "the deed of shame," committed by Sextus against Lucretia, the wife of one of the Roman governors. After two unsuccessful attempts to regain the throne, Tarquinius Superbus sought the aid of the Etruscans and Latins, and under the leadership of Lars Porsena, the head of the Etruscan League, the combined forces marched upon Rome. It was then that the incident recorded in the story of Horatius is supposed to have taken place. After the defence of the bridge by Horatius, Lars Porsena laid siege to the city and at last reduced it to submission. He did not, however, insist upon the reinstatement of the Tarquins. A fourth and last attempt was made by Tarquin the Proud to regain the throne, by the aid of his Latin allies, under Mamilius of Tusculum. The story of this expedition forms the subject of The Battle of Lake Regulus.
I
Lars[1] Porsena of Clusium[2]?By the Nine Gods[3] he swore?That the great house of Tarquin?Should suffer wrong no more.?By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5?And named a trysting day,[4]?And bade his messengers ride forth,?East and west and south and north,?To summon his array.
II
East and west and south and north 10?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, 15?When Porsena of Clusium?Is on the march to Rome.
III
The horsemen and the footmen?Are pouring in amain?From many a stately market-place, 20?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; 25
IV
From lordly Volaterrae,[5]?Where scowls the far-famed hold?Piled by the hands of giants?For godlike kings of old;?From seagirt Populonia, 30?Whose sentinels descry?Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops?Fringing the southern sky;
V
From the proud mart of Pisse,[6]?Queen of the western waves, 35?Where ride Massilia's triremes[7]?Heavy with fair-haired slaves,?From where sweet Olanis[8] wanders?Through corn and vines and flowers,?From where Cortona lifts to heaven 40?Her diadem of towers.
VI
Tall are the oaks whose acorns?Drop in dark Auser's[9] rill;?Fat are the stags that champ the boughs?Of the Ciminian hill;[10] 45?Beyond all streams Clitumnus[11]?Is to the herdsman dear;?Best of all pools the fowler loves?The great Volsinian mere.[12]
VII
But now no stroke of woodman 50?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; 55?Unharmed the waterfowl may dip?In the Volsinian mere.
VIII
The harvests of Arretium,[13]?This year, old men shall reap,?This year, young boys in Umbro[14] 60?Shall plunge the struggling sheep;?And in the vats of Luna,?This year, the must[15] 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 70?Have turned the verses o'er,?Traced from the right[16] on linen white?By mighty seers of yore,
X
And with one voice the Thirty?Have their glad answer given: 75?"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[17] altars 80?The golden shields[18] of Rome."
XI
And now hath every city?Sent up her tale[19] of men:?The foot are fourscore thousand,?The horse are thousands ten. 85?Before the gates of Sutrium[20]?Is met the great array.?A proud man was Lars Porsena?Upon the trysting day.
XII
For all the Etruscan armies 90?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 95?The Tusculan Mamilius,[21]?Prince of the Latian[22] name.
XIII
But by the yellow Tiber?Was tumult and affright:?From all the spacious champaign 100?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. 105
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 110?High on the necks of slaves,?And troops of sunburnt husbandmen?With reaping-hooks and staves,
XV
And droves of mules and asses?Laden with skins of wine,