 Part one of the Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Bavington Macaulay. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com. The Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Bavington Macaulay. Part one, Horatius, a lay made about the year of the city, 360. Lars Porcina of Clusium by the nine gods he swore, but the great House of Tarquin should suffer wrong no more. By the nine gods he swore it and named a tristing day and made 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 trumpets blast. Shame on the false Utruscan who lingers in his home when Porcina of Clusium is on the march for Rome. The horsemen and the footmen are pouring in a main from many a stately market place from many a fruitful plain, from many a lonely hamlet which hid by beach and pine like an eagle's nest hangs on the crest of purple at the nine. From Lordly Voltaire where scowls the far-famed hold polled by the hands of giants for godlike kings of old from Sigurd Populonia whose senitals describe Sardinia's snowy mountain tops fringing the southern sky. From the proud mart of Pisae, queen of the western waves where ride in the cilia's triremes heavy with fair-haired slaves from where sweet clannous wanders through corn and vines and flowers from where Cotona lifts to heaven the diadem of towers. Tall are the oaks whose acorns drop in dark horses' rill. Fat are the stags that champ the bowels of the Semenian hill. Beyond all streams Clitumnus is to the herdsmen dear. Best of all pools the fowler loves the great Volsynian Mere. But now no stroke of woodman is heard by horses' rill. No hunter tracks the stag's green path up the Semenian hill. Unwatched along Clitumnus grazes the milk-white steer unharmed the waterfowl may dip in the Volsynian Mere. The harvests of Oretium this year old men shall reap this year young boys in Umbroke 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. There be thirty chosen prophets, the wisest of the land who all way by Lars Porcina both mourn and evening stand. Evening and mourn the thirty have turned the verses o'er traced from the right on linen white by mighty sires of yore and with one voice the thirty have their glad answer given. Go forth, go forth Lars Porcina, go forth beloved of heaven. Go and return in glory to Clusium's royal dome and hang round Nursia's altars the golden shields of Rome. And now hath every city sent up her tail of men the foot our forescore thousand, the horse our thousand's ten before the gates of Sutrium is met the great array a proud man was Lars Porcina upon the tristing day. For all the Utruscan armies were arranged beneath his eye and many a banished Roman and many a stout ally and with a mighty following to join the muster came the Tusculin Amilius Prince of the Latian name. But by the yellow tiber was tumult and a fright from all the spacious campaign to Rome men took their flight a mile around the city a throng stopped up the ways a fearful sight it was to see through too long nights and days for aged folk on crutches and women great with child and mothers sobbing over babes that clung to them and smiled and sick men born in litters high on the necks of slaves and troops of sunburned husband men, threeping 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 to payon could the one burgers 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 horsemen came with tidings of dismay to eastward and to westward have spread the Tuscan bans or house nor fence nor dovecote in crustumerium stands verbana down to Ostia have wasted all the plain Astur have stormed geniculum and the stout guards are slain I wish in all the senate there was no heart so bold but saw it ate 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 hide them to the wall they held a consul standing before the river gate short time was there he will may guess for musing or debate how to spake the consul roundly the bridge must straight go down for since geniculum is lost nor else can save the town just then a scout came flying all wild with haste and fear to arms to arms sir consul Lars Bassina is here on the low hills to westward the consul fixed his eye and saw the swarthy storm of dust rise fast along the sky and nearer fast and nearer dot the red whirlwind come and louder still and still more loud from underneath that rolling cloud is heard the trumpets war note proud the trampling and the hum and plainly and more plainly now through the gloom appears far to the left and far to right in broken gleams of dark blue light the long array of helmets bright the long array of spears and plainly and more plainly above that glimmering line now might he see the banners of 12 fair cities shine but the banner of proud plusium was highest of them all the terror of the Umbrian the terror of the Gaul and plainly and more plainly now might the burgers know by port and vest by horse and crest each war like lucamo bear cleanness of the retium on his fleet ron was seen and astor of the four fold shield girt with the brand none else may wield to lumines with the belt of gold and dark verbena from the hold by reedy Thrasimene fast by the royal standard overlooking all the war as piscina of plusium sat in his ivory car by the right wheel road mammalius prince of the latin name by the left false sextus that wrought the deed of shame but when the face of sextus was seen among the foes a yell that rent the firmament from all the town up rows on the house tops was no woman but spat towards him and hissed no child but screamed out curses and shook its little fist but the council's brawl was sad and the consul's speech was low and darkly looked he at the wall and darkly at the foe their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down and if they once may win the bridge what hope will save the town then outspake brave Horatius the captain of the gate to every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late and how can man die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods and for the tender mother who dandled him to rest and for the wife who nurses his baby at her breast and for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame to save them from false sextus that wrought the deed of shame. Hew down the bridge sir consul with all the speed he may I with two more to help me will hold the foe in play in yon straight path a thousand may well be stopped by three now who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with me then outspake spurious Larshus Aramnian proud was he though I will stand at thy right hand and keep the bridge with thee and outspake strong Aminius optician blood was he I will abide on thy left side and keep the bridge with thee. Horatius quoth the council as thou sayest so let it be and straight against that great array forth went the dauntless three for Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold nor son nor wife nor limb nor life in the brave days of old then none was for a party then all before the state then the great man helped the poor and the poor man loved the great then lands were fairly portioned then spoils were fairly sold the Romans were like brothers in the brave days of old now Roman is to Roman more hateful than a foe and the tribunes feared the high and the fathers grind the low as we wax hot infection in battle we wax cold where four men fight not as they fought in the brave days of old now while the three were tightening their harness on their backs the console was the foremost man to take in hand an axe and fathers mixed with commons seized hatchet bar and crow and smote upon the planks above and loosed the props below meanwhile the Tuscan army right glorious to behold came flashing back the noonday light rank behind rank like surges bright of a broad sea of gold four hundred trumpets sounded a peel of warlike glee as that great host with measured tread and spears advanced and ensigns spread rolled slowly towards the bridges head where stood the dauntless three the three stood calm and silent and looked upon the foes and a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose and four three chiefs came sparing before that deep array to earth they sprang their swords they drew lifted high their shields and flew to win the narrow way ornice from green typhoon Lord of the hill of vines and sayers whose eight hundred slaves sickened in Ilver's mines and pickers on to plusium vessel in peace and war who led to fight his Umbrian powers from that great craig where Gertwith towers the fortress of Niquinum laurs over the pale waves of gnar stout lashes hurled down ornice into the stream beneath hermeneus struck at sayers and clothing to the teeth at picker spray voracious darted one fiery thrust and the proud Umbrians gilded arms clashed in the bloody dust then opnus of flair I rushed on the Roman three and lossulous of ergo the rover of the sea and a runs of Volcinium who slew the great wild boar the great wild boar that had his den amidst the reeds of cosses then and wasted fields and slaughtered men along Elbinius shore. Elminius smote down ornice larsius laid opnus low right to the heart of lossulous voracious center blow lie there he cried felt pirate no more aghast and pale from Oster's walls the crowd shall mark the track of thy destroying bark no more companion's hines shall fly to woods and caverns when they spy thy thrice accursed sail. But now no sound of laughter was heard among the foes a wild and wrathful clamor from all the vanguard rose six spear's lengths from the entrance halted that deeper array and for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way. But hark the cry is astre and low the ranks divide and the great lord of lunar comes with his stately stride upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the fourfold shield and in his hand he shakes the brand which none but he can wield. He smiled on those bold Romans a smile serene and high he eyed the flinching tuskens and scorn was in his eye quoth he the she-wolf's litter stand savagely at bay but will ye dare to follow if astre clears the way. Then whirling up his broadsword with both hands to the height he rushed against voracious and smote with all his might with shield and blade voracious right deftly turned the blow the blow though turned came yet to nigh it missed his helm but gashed his thigh the tuskens raised a joyful cry to see the red blood flow. He reeled and on a minuous he leaned one breathing space then like a wildcat mad with wounds spring right at astre's face through teeth and skull and helmet so fierce a thrust spread the good sword stood a hand breath out behind the tuskens head and the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke as falls on Mount Alvernus a thunder smitten oak far over the crashing forest the giant arms fly spread and the pale augurs muttering low gaze on the blasted head. On astre's throat Horatius right firmly pressed his heel and thrice and four times tugged domain ere he wrenched out the steel and see he cried the welcome their guests that waits you here what noble Lucamo comes next to taste our Roman cheer but at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran mingled of wrath and shame and dread along that glittering van they lacked not men of prowess or men of lordly race for all utreria's noblest around the fatal place but all utreria's noblest felt their heart synced to see on the earth the bloody corpses in the path the Dauntless Three and from the ghastly entrance where those bold Romans stood all shrank like boys who unaware ranging the woods to start a hair come to the mouth of the dark lair where growling low a fierce old bear lies amidst bones and blood was none who would be foremost to lead such dire attack but those behind cried forward and those before cried back and backward now and forward wavers the deep array and on the tossing sea of steel to and fro the standards real and the victorious trumpet peel dies fitfully away yet one man for one moment strode out before the crowd well no one was he to all the three and they gave him greeting loud now welcome welcome sexters now welcome to thy home why dost thou stay and turn away here lies the road to Rome thrice looked he at the city thrice looked he at the dead and thrice came on in fury and thrice turned back in dread and white with fear and hatred scowled at the narrow way where a wallowing in a pool of blood the bravest tuskens lay but meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied and now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide come back come back Horatius loud cried the father's all back Larshus back Herminius back here the ruin fall back darted spurious Larshus Herminius started back and as they passed beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack but when they turned their faces and on the father's shore so brave Horatius stand alone they would have crossed once more but with a crash like thunder fell every loosened beam and like a dam the mighty wreck lay right a thwart the stream and a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome as to the highest turret tops was splashed the yellow foam and like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rain the furious river struggled hard and tossed his tourney main and burst the curb and bounded rejoicing to be free and whirling down in fierce career battlement and plank and pier rushed headlong to the sea alone stood brave Horatius but constant still in mind thrice thirty thousand foes before and the broad flood behind down with him cried false sextus with a smile and his pale face now yield the great Lars Bessina now yield thee to our grace round turned he as not dining those craven ranks to see not spakey to Lars Bessina to sextus not spakey but he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home but he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome O Tyber father Tyber to whom the Romans pray a Romans life a Romans arms take thou in charge this day so he spake and speaking sheathed the good sword by his side and with his harness on his back plunged headlong in the tide no sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank but friends and foes in dumb surprise with part of lips and straining eyes stood gazing where he sank and when above the surges they saw his crest appear all Rome sent forth a rapturous cry and even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce for bear to cheer 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 in sinking but still again he rose never I weaned did swimmer in such an evil case struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing place but his limbs were born up bravely by the brave heart within and our good father Tyber bear bravely up his chin curse on him quoth false ecstas will not the villain drown but for this day air close of day we should have sacked the town heaven help him quoth Lars Bessina and bring him safe to shore for such a gallant feet of arms was never seen before and now he feels the bottom don dry earth he stands now around him from the fathers to press his gory hands and now with shouts and clapping and noise of weeping loud he enters through the rivergate born by the joyous crowd they gave him of the corn land that was of public right as much as two strong oxen could plow from morn till night and they made a molten image and set it up on high and there it stands unto this day to witness if I lie it stands in the committee plain for all folk to see Horatius in his harness holding upon one knee and underneath his written in letters all of gold how valiantly he kept the bridge in the brave days of old and still his name sounds stirring unto the men of Rome as the trumpet blast that cries to them to charge the Wolfskin home and wives still pray to Juno for boys with hearts as bold as his who kept the bridge so well in the brave days of old and in the nights of winter and the cold north winds blow and the long howling of the wolves is heard amidst the snow when round the lonely cottage was loud the tempests din and the good logs of Alchydus were louder yet within when the oldest cask is opened and the largest lamp is lit when the chestnuts glow in the embers and the kid turns on the spit when young and old in circle around the firebrands close when the girls are weaving baskets and the lads are shaping bows when the good man mends his armor and trims his helmets plume when the good wife's shuttle goes flashing through the loom with weeping and with laughter still is the story told how well Horatius kept the bridge in the brave days of old. End of part one, recorded by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Part two of the Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Spabbington Macaulay. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Plays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Spabbington Macaulay. Part two The Battle of the Lake Regillus. A lay sung at the feast of Castor and Pollux on the Ides of Quintillus in the year of the city, 451. Ho trumpets sound a war note. Ho lictors clear the way. The knights will ride in all their pride along the streets today. Today the doors and windows are hung with garlands all from Castor in the forum to Mars without the wall. Each night is roped in purple. With olive each is crowned. A gallant warhorse under each pours haughtily the ground while flows the Yellow River. While stands the sacred hill the proud Ides of Quintillus shall have such honour still. Gay are the Martian Cullens. December's Nones are grey. But the proud Ides when the squadron rides shall be Rome's whitest day. Unto the great twin brethren we keep this solemn feast. Swift the great twin brethren came spurring from the east. They came over wild Parthenus waves of pine, over Cura's Dome, over Adria's Foam, over purple Apennine. From where with flutes and dances their ancient mansion rings in Lordly Lacedaemian the city of two kings to where by Lake Regelis under the portion height all in the lands of Tusculum was fought the glorious fight. Now on the place of slaughter a cot sand sheepfolds seen and rows of vines and fields of wheat and apple orchards green. The swine crush the big acorns that fall from cornice oaks upon the turf by the fair font the reapers potage smokes. The fisher baits his angle. The hunter twangs his bow. Little they think on those strong limbs that mould are deep below. Little they think how sternly that day the trumpets peeled how in the slippery swamp of blood warrior and warhorse reeled. How wolves came with their scallop and crows on eager wings to tear the flesh of captains and peck the eyes of kings. How thick the dead lay scattered under the portion height. How through the gates of Tusculum raved the wild stream of flight and how the Lake Regelis bubbled with crimson foam. What time the thirty cities came forth to war with Rome. But Roman, when thou standest upon that holy ground look thou with heed on the dark rock that girds the dark lake round. So shout thou see a hoofmark stamped deep into the flint. It was no hoof of mortal steed that made so strange a dint. There to the great twin brethren thou thou thou are viles and prey that they in tempest and in fight will keep thy head all way. Since last the great twin brethren of mortal eyes were seen have years gone by and hundred and forescore and thirteen. That summer our Virginia's was console first in place. The second was stout Orlus of the post Humean race. The herald of the Latins from Gaby I came in state. The herald of the Latins passed through Rome's eastern gate. The herald of the Latins did in our forum stand and there he did his office a scepter in his hand. Here senators and people of the good town of Rome the thirty cities charge you to bring the tarquins home and if ye still be stubborn to work the tarquins wrong the thirty cities warn you look that your walls be strong. Then spake the council Orlus. His spake a bitter jest. Once the Jays sent a message unto the eagles nest. Now yield thou up thine eerie unto the carrion kite will come forth valiantly and face the Jays in deadly fight. Forth looked in roth the eagle and carrion kite and jay. Sin as they saw his beak and claw fled screaming far away. The herald of the Latins hath hide him back in state. The fathers of the city are met in high debate. Then spake the elder council, an ancient man and wise. Now harken conscript fathers to that which I advise in seasons of great peril it is good that one bears away. Then choose we a dictator whom all men shall obey. Cameriam knows how deeply the sword of Orlus bites and all our city calls him the man of seventy fights. Then let him be dictator for six months and no more and have a master of the knights and axes twenty-four. So Orlus was dictator the man of seventy fights. He made a master of the knights on the third mourn thereafter at dawning of the day. Did Orlus and a Buteus set forth with their array. Sampronius a Trattonus was left in charge at home with boys and with gray-headed men to keep the wolves of Rome. Hard to buy the lake regalus. Our camp was pitched at night. Eastward a mile the Latins lay under the river hill and valley. Their mighty host was spread and with their thousand watch fires the midnight sky was red. Up rose the golden morning over the Porschean height. The proud eyes of Quintillus marked evermore with white. Not without secret trouble our bravest saw the foes forget by three score thousand spears the thirty standards rose from a town like city that boasts the Latian name for doomed to dogs and vultures that Gallant army came from Setia's purple vineyards from Norba's ancient wall from the white streets of Tusculum the proudest town of all from where the witches fortress overhangs the dark blue seas from the still glassy lake that sleeps beneath our trees and whose dim shadow the ghastly priest doth reign the priest who slew the slayer and shall himself be slain. From the drear banks of Euphins where flights of marsh fell play and buffaloes lie wallowing through the hot summer's day. From the gigantic watchtowers no work of earthly men when score as sentinels overlook the never-ending fin from the ancient jungle the wild hogs reedy home from the green steps when anio leaps in floods of snow-white foam. Arichia Korra Norba Eletray with the might of Setia and of Tusculum remarshalled on the right their leader was Mamilius Prince of the Latian name upon his head a helmet of red gold shone like flame high on a Gallant warrior of dark grey hue he rode over his gilded armour a vest of purple flowed woven in the land of sunrise by Syria's dark-browed daughters and by the sails of Carthage brought far over the southern waters. Lavinium and Larentum had on their left the post with all the banners of the marsh and banners of the coast their leader a false sextus that wrought the deed of shame with restless pace and haggard face to his last field he came. Men said he saw strange visions which none beside might see and that strange sounds were in his ears which none might hear but he. A woman fair and stately but pale as are the dead oft through the watches of the night set spinning by and as she plied the distaff in a sweet voice and low she sang of great old houses and fights fought long ago so spongy and so sang she until the east was grey then pointed to her bleeding breast and shrieked and fled away but in the centre thickest were ranged the shields of foes and from the centre loudest the cry of battle rose fair Tyber marched and beat him beneath proud Tarquin's rule and the furren tinom of the rock and gabby eye of the pool their road the Volskian suckers their inner dark stern ring the Roman exiles gathered close around the ancient king though white as mount Saracty when winter nights along his beard flowed down over mail and belt his heart and hand long under his hoary eyebrows still flashed forth quenchless rage and if the lance shook in his grip was more with hate than age close at his side was Titus on an apple-leon steed Titus the youngest Tarquin too good for such a breed now on each side the leaders gave signal for the charge and on each side the footman strode on with lance and on each side the horseman struck their spurs deep in gore and front to front the armies met with a mighty roar and under that great battle the earth with blood was red and like the pontine fog at morn the dust hung overhead and louder still and louder rose from the darkened field the braying of the warhorns the claim of sword and shield the rush of squadrons sweeping like whirlwinds over the plane the shouting of the slayers and screeching of the slain false sextus rode out foremost his look was high and bold his coarselet was a bison's hide plated with steel and gold as glares the famished eagle from the Degentian rock on a choice lamb that bounds alone before Bandoosius flock Iminius glared on sextus and came with eagle speed Iminius on black gooster brave champion on brave steed in his right hand the broadsword that kept the bridge so well and on his helm the crown he won when proud Fadine fell woe to the maid whose lover shall cross his path today false sextus saw and trembled and turned and fled away as turns as flies the woodman in the Calabrian break when through the reeds gleams the round eye of that fell speckled a snake so turned so fled false sextus and hit him in the rear behind the dark Lavinian ranks bristling with crest and spear but far to the north Aebutius the master of the knights gave Tubera of Norba to feed the Porcian kites next under those red horse hooves flakus of Setiolae better had he been pruning among his elms that day Iminius saw the slaughter and tossed his golden crest and towards the master of the knights through the thick battle breast Aebutius smote Iminius so fiercely on the shield that the great lord of Tusculum well nigh rolled on the field Iminius smote Aebutius with a good aim and true just where the neck and shoulder join and pierced him through and through and brave Aebutius, Elva fell swooning to the ground but a thick wall of bucklers encompassed him around his clients from the battle bear him some little space and filled a helm from the dark lake and bathed his brow and face and when at last he opened his swimming eyes to light men say the earliest word he spake was friends how goes the fight but meanwhile in the centre great deeds of arms were wrought there all is the dictator and their valerious fought all is with his good broadsword a bloody passage cleared to where amidst the thickest foes he saw the long white beard flat lighted that good broadsword upon proud he dropped the lance he dropped the reins he fell as fall the dead down all springs to slay him with eyes like coals of fire but faster Titus hath sprung down and hath bestowed his sire Latian captains Roman knights fast down to earth they spring and hand to hand they fight on foot around the ancient king first Titus gave Taukesu a wound in the face Taukesu was the bravest man of the brave Fabian race all is slew rex of Gabii the priest of Juno's shrine valerious smote down Julius of Rome's great Julian line Julius who left his mansion high on the Vilean hill and through all turns of wheel and woe followed proud Tarquin still now right across proud Tarquin a corpse was Julius laid and Titus groaned with rage and grief and at Valerius made Valerius struck at Titus and lopped off half his crest but Titus stabbed Valerius a span deep in the breast like a mast snapped by the tempest Valerius reeled and fell woe is me for the good house that loves the people well then shouted the Latins and with one rush they bore the struggling Romans backward three Lancers length and more and up they took proud Tarquin and laid him on a shield and four strong Yeoman bear him still senseless from the field but Fierce grew the fighting around Valerius dead the Titus dragged him by the foot and all is by the head on Latins south Titus see how the rebels fly Romans stand firm quoth all is and win this fight or die they must not give Valerius to Raven and to Kite for I Valerius loathed the wrong and I upheld the right and for your wives and babies in the front rank he fell now play the man for the good house that loves the people well then tenfold round the body the roar of battle rose like the roar of a burning forest when a strong north wind blows now backward and now forward rocked furiously the fray till none could see Valerius and none whisked where he lay the shivered arms and enzymes were heaped there in a mound and corpses stiff and dying men that writhed and gnawed the ground and wounded horses kicking and snorting purple foam right well did such a couch fit a consular of Rome but north looked the dictator north looked he long and hard and spake to chaos cossus the captain of his guard chaos of all the Romans thou hast the keenest sight say what through yonder storm of dust comes from the Latian right then answered chaos cossus I see an evil sight the banner of proud tusculum comes from the Latian right I see the plummet horseman and far before the rest I see the dark grey charger I see the purple vest I see the golden helmet that shines far off like flame so ever rides Mamillius prince of the Latian name now harken chaos cossus spring on thy horses back ride as the wolves of Apennine were all upon thy track haste to our southward battle and never draw thy rain until they'll find Mamillius and bid him come amane so all is spake and turned him again to that fierce strife and chaos cossus mounted and rode for death and life loud clanged beneath his horse hooves the helmets of the dead and many a curdling pool of blood splashed him to head so came he far to southward where fought the roman host against the banners of the marsh and banners of the coast like corn before the sickle the stout levinians fell beneath the edge of the true sword that kept the bridge so well Mamillius all is greets thee he bids thee come with speed to help our central battle the saw is there our need there wars the youngest there the crest of flame the tusculin mamillius prince of the latin name the larius hath fallen fighting in front of our array and all is at the 70 fields alone upholds the day herminius beat his bosom but never a word he spake he clapped his hand on Ulster's mane he gave the reins a shake away away went Ulster like an arrow from the bow black Ulster the fleet is steed from orthodus to Poe right glad were all the romans who in that hour of dread against great odds bear up the war around the larius dead when from the south the cheering rose with a mighty swell herminius comes herminius who kept the bridge so well Mamillius spied herminius and dashed across the way herminius I have sought thee through many a bloody day one of us too herminius shall never more go home I will lay on the tusculin and lay thou on for Rome all round them paused the battle while met in mortal fray the roman and the tusculin the horses black and gray herminius smote Mamillius through breastplate and through breast and fast flowed out the purple blood over the purple vest Mamillius smote herminius through headpiece and through head and side by side those chiefs of pride together fell down dead down fell they dead together in a great lake of gore and still stood all who saw them fall while men might count a score fast fast with heels wild spurning the dark grey charger fled he burst through ranks of fighting men he sprang over heaps of dead his bridle far out streaming his flanks all blood and foam he sought the southern mountains the mountains of his home the pass was steep and rugged the wolves they howled and wind but he ran like a whirlwind up the pass and he left the wolves behind through many a startled hamlet thundered his flying feet he rushed through the gate of tusculin he rushed up the long white street he rushed by tower and temple and paused not from his race till he stood before his master's door in the stately market place and straight way around him gathered a pale and trembling crowd and when they knew him cries of rage break forth and wailing loud and women rent their tresses for their great princes fall an old men girt on their old swords and went to man the wall but like a graven image black ooster kept his place and ever wistfully he looked into his master's face the raven maned that daily with pats and fond caresses the young amenia washed and combed and twined in even tresses and decked with coloured ribbons from her own gay attire hung sadly over her father's corpse in carnage and in mire forth with a shout sprang Titus and seized black ooster's reign then allus swear a fearful oath and ran at him amane the theories of thy brother with me and mine abide if one of your accursed house upon black ooster ride as on an alpine watchtower from heaven comes down the flame full on the neck of Titus the blade of allus came and out the red blood spouted in a wide arch and tall as spouts are fountain in the court of some rich campuans all the knees of all the latines were loosened with dismay when dead on dead herminias the bravest taquin lay and allus the dictator stroked ooster's raven man with heed he looked unto the girths with heed unto the rain now bear me well black ooster into yon thick array and thou and I will have revenge for thy good lord today so spakey and was buckling tighter black ooster's band when he was aware of a princely pear that rode at his right hand so like they were no mortal might one from other know whiter snow their armor was their steeds were whiter snow never on earthly anvil did such rare armor gleam and never did such gallant steeds drink of an earthly stream and all who saw them trembled and pale grew every cheek and allus the dictator scarce gathered voice to speak say by what name men call you what city is your home and wherefore ridey in such guise before the ranks of Rome by many names men call us in many lands we dwell well Samothracia knows us Saurini knows us well our house in gray Tarantum is hung each morn with flowers high over the masts of Syracuse our marble portal towers but by the proud Eurotus is our dear native home and for the right we come to fight before the ranks of Rome so answered those strange horsemen and each couched lowest spear and forth with all the ranks of Rome were bold and of good cheer and on the thirty armies came wonder and a fright and Adia wavered on the left and Cora on the right Rome to the charge cried allus the foe begins to yield charge for the half of Vesta charge for the golden shield let no man stop to plunder but slay and slay the gods who live forever are on our side today then the fierce trumpet flourish from earth to heaven arose the kites know well the long stern swell that bids the Romans close then the good sword of allus was lifted up to slay then like a craig down Apennine rushed Ulster through the fray but under those strange horsemen and after those strange horses Blackhorster toiled in vain behind them Rome's long battle came rolling on the foe in signs dancing wild above blades all in a line below so comes the poe in flood time upon the Celtic plain so comes the squall blacker than night upon the Adrian main now by our sire queerness it was a goodly sight to see the thirty standards swept down the tide of flight so flies the spray of Adria and on the black squall got blow so corn sheaves in the flood time spin down the whirling poe Ulsextus to the mountains turned first his horses head and fast fled for entinem and fast lanuvium fled the horsemen of namentum spurred hard out of the fray the footmen of the litre through shield and spear away and underfoot was trampled amidst the mud and gore the banner of proud tusculum that never stooped before and down went Flavius Faustus who led his stately ranks from where the apple blossoms wave on anios echoing banks and Tullus of Arpinum chief of the Volskian aids and Metius with the long fair curls the love of Anxus maids and the white head of Volso the great Arichian seer and Nepos of Larentum the hunter of the deer and in the back false Sextus felt the good Roman steel and wriggling in the dust he died like a worm beneath the wheel and flyers and pursuers were mingled in a mass and far away the battle went roaring through the pass Sampronius a traternous sat in the eastern gate beside him were three fathers each in his chair of state Favius whose nine stout grandsons that day were in the field and Manlius eldest of the twelve who keep the golden shield and Sergius the High Pontiff for wisdom far renowned in all eutrious colleges was no such Pontiff found and all around the portal and high above the wall stood a great frong of people but saviours and silent all young lads and stooping elders that might not bear the male matrons with lips that quivered and maids with faces pale since the first gleam of daylight Sampronius had not ceased to listen for the rushing force hooves from the east the mist of Eve was rising the sun was hastening down when he was aware of a princely pear fast pricking towards the town so like they were man never saw twins so like before red with gore their armour was their steeds were red with gore hail to the great Asylum hail to the hilltops seven hail to the fire that burns for eye and the shield that fell from heaven this day by Lake Regillus under the Porcian height all in the lands of Tusculum was fought a glorious fight and all in the land was fought a glorious fight tomorrow your dictator shall bring in triumph home the spoils of thirty cities to deck the shrines of Rome and burst from that great concourse a shout that shook the towers and some ran north and some ran south crying the day is ours but on road these strange horsemen with slow and lordly pace and none who saw their bearing just ask their name and they will race on road they to the forum while laurel boughs and flowers from house tops and from windows fell on their crests and showers when they drew nigh to Vesta they vaulted down a main and washed their horses in the world that springs by Vesta's fame and straight away they mounted and rode to Vesta's door then like a blast away they passed and no man saw them more and all the people trembled and pale grew every cheek and Sergius the High Pontiff alone found voice to speak the gods who live forever have fought for Rome today these be the great twin brethren to whom the Dorians pray back comes the chief in triumph who in the hour of fight have seen the great twin brethren in harness on his right safe comes the ship to Haven through billows and through gales if once the great twin brethren sit shining on the sails wherefore they washed their horses in Vesta's holy will wherefore they rode to Vesta's door I know but may not tell hear hard by Vesta's temple build we a stately dome unto the great twin brethren who fought so well for Rome and when the months returning bring back this day of fight the proud ides of Gwyntylos marked evermore with white unto the great twin brethren let all the people throng with chaplets and with offerings with music and with song and let the doors and windows be hung with garlands all and let the nights be summoned to Mars without the wall thence let them ride in purple with joyous trumpet sound each mounted on his warhorse and each with olive crowned and a pass in solemn order before the sacred dome where dwell the great twin brethren who fought so well for Rome End of Part 2 recorded by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Part 3 of the Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Spavington McCauley This is LibriVox Recording or LibriVox Recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com The Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Spavington McCauley Part 3, Virginia Fragments of a Lays sung in the forum on the day where on Lucius Sextus Sextinas Lateranus and Caes Lucinus Cloverstolo relected tribunes of the commons the fifth time in the year of the city 382 Igutalea 382 Igutmen of the commons with loving hearts and true who stand by the bold tribunes that still have stood by you Come make a circle round me and mark my tail with care the tail of what Rome once hath borne of what Rome yet may bear This is no Grecian fable of fountains running wine of maids with snaky tresses or sailors turned to swine even this very forum under the noonday sun in sight of all the people the bloody deed was done old men still creep among us who saw that fearful day just 70 years and 7 ago when the wicked ten bear sway of all the wicked ten still the names are held accursed and of all the wicked ten, Apius Claudius was the worst among the forum like King Tarquin in his pride twelve axes weighted on him six marching on a side the townsmen shrank to right and left and eyed a scans with fear his lowering brow, his curling mouth which always seemed to sneer that brow of hate that mouth of scorn marks all the kindred still for never was there Claudius yet but wished the commons ill nor lacks he fit attendance for close behind his heels without stretched gin and crouching pace the client Marcus steals his loins gird up to rung with speed be the errand what it may and the smile flickering on his cheek for ought his lord may say such barlets pimp and jest for hire among the lying Greeks such barlets still are paid to hoot when brave Licinius speaks wherever you shed the honey the buzzing flies will crowd wherever you fling the carrion the ravens croak is loud wherever down type of garbage floats the greedy pike you see and where so ever such lord is found such client still will be just then as through one cloudless chink in a black stormy sky shines out the dewy morning star a fair young girl came by with her small tablets in her hand and her sexual on her arm home she went bounding from the school nor dreamed of shame or harm and past those dreaded axes she innocently ran with bright frank brow that had not learned to blush at gaze of man and up the sacred street she turned and as she danced along she warbled gaily to herself lines of the good old song how for a sport the princess came spurring from the camp and found Lucrice curming the fleece under the midnight lamp the maiden sang as sings the lark when up he darts his flight from his nest in the green apricorn to meet the morning light and apias heard her sweet young voice and saw her sweet young face and loved her with the accursed love of his accursed race and all along the forum and up the sacred street his vulture eye pursued the trip of those small glancing feet over the urban mountains the light of morning broke from all the roofs the seven hills curled the thin wreaths of smoke the city gates were opened the forum all alive with buyers and with sellers was humming like a hive lively on brass and timber the craftsman's stroke was ringing and blithely over her panniers the market girl was singing and blithely young Virginia came smiling from her home a-whove for young Virginia the sweetest made in Rome with her small tablets in her hand and her satchel on her arm forth she went bounding to the school nor dreamed of shame or harm she crossed the forum shining shawls in alley's gay and just had reached the very spot whereon I stand this day when up the violet markers came not such as when air while he crouched behind his patron's heels with the true client smile he came with lowering forehead swollen features and clenched fist and strode across Virginia's path and caught her by the wrist hard strove the frighted maiden she was screamed with look aghast and at her scream from right and left the folk came running fast the money changer Christmas with his thin silver hairs and Hanno from the stately booth filtering with punic wares and the strong smith urana grasping a half forged brand and Valero the Flesher his cleaver in his hand or came in wroth and wander for all knew that fair child and as she passed them twice a day all kissed their hands and smiled and the strong smith urana gave Marcus such a blow the catif reeled three paces back and let the maiden go yet glad he fiercely round him and growled in harsh fell tone she's mine and I will have her I seek but for mine own she is my slave born in my house and stolen away and sold the year of the sore sickness as she was 12 hours old was in the sad September the month of wild and fright two augurs were born fourth that morn the consul died in night I wait on happiest Claudius I waited on his sire let him who works the client wrong beware the patrons hire so speck the violet Marcus and dread and silence came on all the people at the sound of the great Claudian name for then there was no tribune to speak the word of might which makes the rich man tremble and guards the poor man's right there was no brave the sinious no honest sexist then but all the city in great fear obeyed the wicked ten yet ere the violet Marcus again might seize the maid who clung tight to marina's skirt and sobbed and shrieked the aid forth through the throng of gazes the young Achilles pressed and stamped his foot and rent his gown and smote upon his breast and spring upon that column by many a minstrel sung were on three mouldering helmets three rusting swords a hung and beckoned to the people and in bold voice and clear poured thick and fast the words which tyrants quake to hear now by your children's cradles now by your father's graves be men today queer rights will be forever slaves for this did Servius give us laws for this did Lucris bleed for this was the great vengeance wrought on Tarquin's evil seed for this did those false sons make red the axes of their sire for this did Scavola's right hand hiss in the Tuscan fire shall the vile fox earth all the race that stormed the lion's den shall we who could not brook one lord crouched to the wicked ten owe for that ancient spirit which curved the senate's will ove the tents which in old time whitened the sacred hill in those brave days our fathers stood firmly side by side they faced the Marcian fury they tamed the Fabian pride they drove the fiercest Quincetius an outcast forth from Rome they sent the haughtiest Claudius with shivered feces home but what their care bequeathed us how madness flung away all the ripe fruit of three score years was blighted in a day exult you proud patricians a hard fought fight is over we strove for honours twas in vain for freedom no crier to the polling summons the eager throng no tribune breathes the word of might that guards the weak from wrong how very hearts that were so high sink down beneath your will riches and lands and power and state you have them keep them still still keep the holy philips still keep the purple gown the axes and the curole chair the car and laurel crown still presses for your cohorts and when the fight is done still fill your garners from the soil which our good swords have won still like a spreading ulcer which leechcraft may not cure let your foul usins eat away the substance of the poor still let your haggard debtors there all their fathers bore still let your dens of torment be noisome as of your no fire when tiber freezes air in dogstar heat and store of rods for freeborn backs and holes for freeborn feet keep heavier still the fetters bar closer still the great patient is sheep we yield us up unto your cruel hate but by the shades beneath us and by the guards above add not unto your cruel hate your yet more cruel love have you not graceful ladies whose spotless lineage springs from consuls and hypontiffs and ancient urban kings ladies who dine not on our paths to set their tender feet who from their cars look down with scorn upon the wandering street who in Corinthian mirrors their own proud smiles behold and breathe of capoean odours and shine with Spanish gold then leave the poor plebeian his single tire to life the sweet love of daughter of sister and of wife the gentle speech the balm for all that his vexed soul endures the kiss in which he half forgets even such a yoke as yours still let the maidens beauty swell the fathers breast with pride still let the bridegroom's arms enfold an unpolluted bride spare us the inexperable wrong the unutterable shame that turns the coward's heart or the sluggard's blood to flame best when our latest hope is fled he taste of our despair and learn by proof in some wild hour how much the wretched dare straight way Virginia's led the maid a little space aside to where the reeking shambles stood piled up with horn and hide close to yon low dark archway where in a crimson flood leaps down to the great sewer the gurgling stream of blood hard to buy a flasher on a block had laid his whittle down Virginia's caught the whittle up and hid it in his gown and then his eyes grew very dim and his throat began to swell and in a hoarse changed voice he spake farewell sweet child farewell oh how I loved my darling though stern I sometimes be to thee thou knowest I was not so who could be so to thee and how my darling loved me how glad she was to hear my footsteps on the threshold when I came back last year and how she danced with pleasure to see my civic crown and took my sword and hung it up and brought me forth my gown now all these things are over yes all thy pretty ways thy needlework, thy prattle thy snatchers of old lays and none will grieve thou forth or smile when I return or watch beside the old man's bed or weep upon his urn the house that was the happiest within the roman walls the house that envied not the wealth of capulous marble walls now for the brightness of thy smile must have eternal gloom and for the music of thy voice the silence of the tomb the timers come see how he points his eager hand this way see how his eyes gloat on thy grief like a kites upon the prey with all his wit he little deems that spurned, betrayed, bereft thy father hath in his despair one fearful refuge left he little deems that in this hand I clutch what still can save thy gentle youth from taunts and blows the portion of the slave yay and from nameless evil that passeth taunt and blow foul outrage which thou knowest not which thou shalt never know then clasp me round the neck once more and give me one more kiss and now mine own dear little girl there is no way but this with that he lifted high the steel and smote her in the side and in her blood she sank to earth and with one sob she died then for a little moment all people held their breath and through the crowded forum was stillness as of death and in another moment break forth from one and all a cry as if the Volskians were coming over the wall some with averted faces shrieking fled home a main some ran to call a leech and some ran to lift the slain some felt her lips and little rest if life might and some tore up their garments fast and strove to staunch the wound in vain they ran and felt and staunched for never true a blow that good right arm had dealt in fight against a Volskian foe when Appius Claudius saw that deed he shuddered and sank down and hid his face some little space with the corner of his gown till with white lips and blood shot eyes Virginia's totted nigh and stood before the judgment seat and held the knife on high O dwellers in the never gloom avengers of the slain by this dear blood I cry to you do right between us twain and even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line so spake the slayer of his child and turned and went his way but first he cast to where the body lay and writhed and groaned a fearful groan and then with steadfast feet strove right across the market place unto the sacred street then up sprang Appius Claudius stop him alive or dead ten thousand pounds of copper to the man who brings his head he looked upon his clients but none would work his will he looked upon his lictors but they trembled and stood still and as Virginia's through the press his way in silence cleft ever the mighty multitude fell back to right and left and he hath passed in safety unto his woeful home and there taken horse to tell the camp what deeds are done in Rome by this the flood of people was swollen from every side and its streets and porches round were filled with that overflowing tide and close around the body gathered a little train of them that were the nearest and dearest to the slain they brought a beer and hung it with many a cypress crown and gently they uplifted her and gently laid her down the face of Appius Claudius wore the Claudian scale and sneer and in the Claudian note he cried what doth this rubble hear have they no crafts to mind at home that hither would they stray who, Lictus, clear the marketplace and fetch the corpse away voice of grief and fury till then had not been loud but a deep sullen murmur wandered among the crowd like the moaning noise that goes before the whirlwind on the deep or the growl of a fierce watchdog but half aroused from sleep but when the Lictus at that word tall gearmen all and strong each with his axe sheep twigs went down into the throng those old men say who saw that day of sorrow and of sin that in the Roman forum was never such a din the wailing hooting cursing the howls of grief and hate were heard beyond the pincean hill beyond the Latin gate but close around the body where stood the little train of them that were the nearest and dearest to the slain no cries were there but teeth set fast low whispers and black frowns and breaking up of benches and girding up of gowns twas well the Lictus might not pierce to where the maiden lay else surely had they been all twelve torn from limb that day right glad they were to struggle back blood streaming from their heads with axes all in splinters and raiment all in shreds the word is nought his lip and the blood left his cheek and thrice he beckoned with his hand and thrice he strove to speak and thrice the tossing forum set up a frightful gill see see thou dog what thou has done and hide thy shame in hell thou that wouldst make our maiden slaves must first make slaves of men tribunes hurrah for tribunes down with the wicked ten and straight away thick as hailstones came whizzing through the air pebbles and bricks and pot-shirts all round the curile chair and upon Appius Claudius great fear and trembling came for never was a Claudius yet brave against ought but shame though the great houses love us not we own to do them right that the great houses all save one have borne them well in fight still chaos of Correola with his triumphs and his wrongs his vengeance and his mercy live in our camp fire songs beneath the yoke of furious oft have gall and tusken bowed and Rome may bear the pride of him of whom herself is proud but evermore a Claudius shrinks from a stricken field and changes colour like a maid at sight of sword and shield the Claudian triumphs all were won within the city towers the Claudian yoke was never pressed on any necks of the towers Acossus like a wild cat springs ever at the face a Fabius rushes like a boar against the shouting chase but the vile Claudian litter raging with Kurdish spite still gulps and snaps at those who run still runs from those who smite so now to a scene of Appius when stones begin to fly his yoke encroached and rung his hands honest lictors stand by me in this fray must I be torn to pieces home home the nearest way while yet he spake and looked around with a bewildered stare for sturdy lictors put their necks beneath the curile chair and forescore clients on the left and forescore on the right arrayed themselves with swords and staves and loins gird up for fight but though without or staff the crowd so furious was the throng that scarce the train with might and main could bring their lord along twelve times the crowd made at him five times they seized his gown small chance was his to rise again if once they got him down and sharper came the pelting and evermore the yell tribunes we will have tribunes rose with a louder swell and the chair tossed as tosses a bark with tattered sail when raids the Adriatic beneath an eastern gale when the Calabrian sea marks are lost in clouds of spew and the great thunder cape has donned his veil of inky gloom one stone hit apias in the mouth and one beneath the ear and ere he reached mount palatine he swooned with pain and fear his cursed head that he was want to hold so high with pride now like a drunken man's down and swayed from side to side and when his stout retainers had brought him to his door his face and neck were all one cake of filth and plotted gore as apias Claudius was that day so may his grandson be God send Rome one such other sight and send me there to see End of Part 3 Recorded by Nathan at www.antipediumwriter.wordpress.com Part 4 of The Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington Macaulay This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Nathan at www.antipediumwriter.wordpress.com The Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington Macaulay Part 4 The Prophecy of Capis A lay sung atch the banquet in the capital the day were on Manyus Curius Dintartus a second time consul triumphed over King Pyrrhus and the Tarantines in the year of the city 479 Now Slayne is king Amulius of the great Sylvian line who reigned in all the longer on the throne of Aventine Slayne is the Pontiff Camus who spake the words of doom children to the Tiber to the tomb in Alba's lake no Fisher his net today is flinging on the dark rind of Alba's oaks today no axe is ringing the yoke hangs over the manger the scythe lies in the hay through all the Alban villages no work is done today and every Alban burger hath donned his whitest gown and every head in Alba weareth a poplar crown and every Alban doorpost with bowels and flowers is gay for today the dead are living the lost are found today they were doomed by a bloody king they were doomed by a lying priest they were cast on the raging flood they were tracked by the raging beast raging beast and raging flood alike have spared the prey and today the dead are living the lost are found today the troubled river knew them and smoothed his yellow foam and gently rocked the cradle that bore the fate of Rome the ravening she wolf knew them and licked them oar and oar and gave them of her own fierce milk rich with raw flesh and gore 20 winters 20 springs since then have rolled away and today the dead are living the lost are found today lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there lie there On the blade a head, a head in an iron helmet, With horse hair hanging down, a shaggy head, A swarthy head, fixed in a ghastly frown. The head of King Amulius of the great Silvian line, Who reigned in all the longer, on the throne of aving-time. On the left side goes Remus, with wrists and fingers red, And in his hand bore spear And on the point a head, a wrinkled head and aged, With silver beard and hair, and wholly fillets rounded, such as the pontiffs where, The head of ancient Chamius, who spake the words of doom, The children to the Tyber, the mother to the tomb. Two and two behind the twins their trusty comrades go, Four and forty valiant men with club and axe and bow. On each side every hamlet pours forth its joyous crowd, Shouting lads and baying dogs and children laughing loud, And old men weeping fondly, As rears boys go by, and maids who shriek To see the heads yet shrieking press more nigh. So they marched along the lake, They marched by fold and stall, by corn field And by vineyard, unto the old man's hall. In the hall gate sat Capus, Capus the cyclus, Sia, From head to foot he trembled, as Romulus drew near, And up stood stiff his thin white hair And his blind eyes flashed fire, Hale fostered child of the wondrous nurse, Hale's son of the wondrous sire, But thou, what dost thou hear In the old man's peaceful hall, What doth the eagle in the coop, the bison, In the stool, our corn fields many a garner, Our vines clasp many a tree, our flocks a white On many a hill, but these are not for thee. For thee no treasure ripens In the Tartesian mine. For thee no ship brings precious bails Across the Libyan brine, thou shalt not drink From amber, thou shalt not rest on down, Arabia shall not steep thy locks, nor sit On tinge thy gown. With golden myrrh and jewels, Rich table and soft bed, To them who of man's cedar-borne, Whom woman's milk hath fed, Thou wasst not made for Lucca, For pleasure, nor for rest, Thou that art sprung from the war-god's loins, And has tugged at the she-wolf's breast. From sunrise unto sunset, All earth shall hear thy fame, A glorious city thou shalt build And name it by thy name, And there unquenched through ages, Like vesters' sacred fire, Shall live the spirit of thy nurse, The spirit of thy sire. The ox toils through the furrow, Obedient to the goad, The patient ass up 20 paths, Plods with his weary load, With wine and bound the spaniel, His masters whistle his ears, And the sheep yields her patiently To the loud, clashing shears. But thy nurse will hear no master, Thy nurse will bear no load, And woe to them that shear her, And woe to them that goad, When all the pack-loud bane, The bloody lair surrounds, She dies in silence, biting hard, Amidst the dying hounds. Pomona loves the orchard, And liva loves the vine, And palace loves the straw-built shed, Worn with the breath of kine, And Venus loves the whispers Of plighted youth hand-made, In April's ivory moonlight Beneath the chestnut shade. But thy father loves the clashing Of broadsword and of shield. He loves to drink the stream That reeks from the fresh battle field. He smiles a smile more dreadful Than his own dreadful frown. When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke Go up from the conquered town, And such as is the war god, The author of thy line, And such as she who suckled thee Even such be thou and thine, Leave to the soft campanion His baths and his perfumes, Leave to the sordid race of Tyre, Their dying vats and loons, Leave to the sons of Carthage, The rudder and the oar, Leave to the Greek his marble nymphs And scrolls of wordy law. Thine Roman is the pillum, Roman the sword is thine, The even trench, the bristling mound, The legions ordered line, And thine the wheels of triumph Which with their laurel train Moves slowly up the shouting streets To Job's eternal fame. Beneath thy yoke, the Boschian Shall veil his lofty brow, Thou art capuas, curled revelers, Before thy chairs shall bow. The lukemos of Arnus Shall quake thy rods to see, And the proud Samnites, heart of steel, Shall yield to only thee. The gall shall come against thee From the land of snow and night, Thou shalt give his fair-haired armies To the raven and the kite. The Greek shall come against thee, The conqueror of the east, And decide him stalks to battle, The huge earth-shaking beast, The beast on whom the castle, With all its guards doth stand. The beast who hath between his eyes The serpent, for a hand, First marched the bold Eporites, Wedged close with shield and spear, And the ranks of false Tarentum Are glittering in the rear. The ranks of false Tarentum, Like hunted sheep shall fly, In vain the bold Eporites Shall round their standards die, And Aponene's gray vultures Shall have a noble feast On the fat and the eyes Of the huge earth-shaking beast. Hurrah for the good weapons That keep the war-gods land! Hurrah for Rome's stout billum In a stout Roman hand! Hurrah for Rome's short broadsword That, through the thick array Of levelled spears and sered shields, Use deep its gory way! Hurrah for the great triumph That stretches many a mile! Hurrah for the one captives That pass in endless vile! Whom boldy pirates Wither hath the red king taken flight? Whom dogs of false Tarentum Is not the gown washed white? Hurrah for the great triumph That stretches many a mile! Hurrah for the rich die of Tyre And the fine web of Nile! The helmets gay with plumage Torn from the pheasants' wings! The belts set thick with starry gems That shone on Indian kings! He earns of massy silver, The goblets rough with gold, The many coloured tablets bright With loves and wars of old! The stone that breathes and struggles The brass that seems to speak Such cunning they who dwell on high Have given unto the Greek! Hurrah for many a curious The bravest son of Rome! Thrice in utmost need Sent forth thrice drawn in triumph home! Weave-weave for many a curious The third embroidered gown! Make ready the third lofty car And twine the third green crown! And yoke the steeds of rosier With necks like a bended bow! And deck the bull, M'vania's bull, The bull as white as snow! Blessed and thrice blessed the Roman Who sees Rome's brightest day! Who sees that long victorious pomp Wined down the sacred way! And through the bellowing forum And round the suppliants' grove Up to the everlasting gates Of Capitolian jove! In wear over two bright havens The towers of Corinth frown With a gigantic king of day On his own roads looks down Their soft orentius murmurs Beneath the laurel shades Where Nile reflects the endless length Of dark red colonnades Wherein the still-deep water Sheltered from waves and blasts Bristles the dusky forest Of verses thousand masts Where fur-clad hunters wander Admitst the northern ice Where through the sand of morningland The camel bears the spice Where atlas flings his shadow Far over the western foam Shall be great fear On all who hear the mighty name of Rome! End of Part 4 End of the Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington Macaulay Recorded by Nathan At atypadeonwriter.wordpress.com