He felt that all was over, he knew his child was dead,
He took the candle in his hand and walked toward the bed;
His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd fain conceal,
And see, his wife has joined him-the stricken couple kneel:
With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly ask of
Him,

In heaven once more to meet again their own poor little
Jim.

HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE.-T. B. MACAULAY.

ADAPTED FOR RECITATION.

Lars Porsena of Clusium by the Nine Gods 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, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 came with tidings of dismay.

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.

They held a council standing before the River-Gate;

Short time was there, ye well may guess, for musing or de

bate.

Out spake the Consul roundly: "The bridge must straight go down;

For, since Janiculum is lost, naught else can save the town."

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 Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust rise fast along the sky.

But the Consul's brow 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 to save the
town?"

Then out spoke 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.

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye 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 out spake Spurius Lartius,—a Ramnian proud was he,-"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."

And out spake strong Herminius,-of Titian blood was he,-*I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with

thee."

66

Horatius," quoth the Consul, "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.

Now while the three were tightening their harness on their backs,

The Consul 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.

The three stood calm and silent and looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard rose;
And forth three chiefs came spurring before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew to win the
narrow way.

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus into the stream beneath,
Herminius struck at Seius, and clove him to the teeth;
At Picus brave Horatius darted one fiery thrust;

And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms clashed in the bloody dust.

But all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see

On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless three.

And from the ghastly entrance, where those bold Romans

stood,

The bravest shrank like boys who rouse an old bear in the wood.

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 Fathers

all:

'Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!" Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers

crack;

But when they turned their faces, and on the farther shore Saw 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 athwart 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 rein, The furious river struggled hard, and tossed his tawny mane,

And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free, And battlement, and plank, and pier, whirled headlong to the sea.

Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood be

hind.

"Down with him!" cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale face.

"Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace.'

Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to

see;

Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus naught spake

he;

But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home,

And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of

Rome.

"O Tiber! father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray,

A Roman's life, a Roman's 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, stood gazing where

he sank;

And when above the surges they saw his crest appear,

Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear 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 him sinking—but still again he rose.

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 this 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 he stands; 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 crowd.

They gave him of the corn-land that was of public right
As much as two strong oxen could plough 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 Comitium, plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness, halting upon one knee:
And underneath is written, in letters all of gold,
How valiantly he kept the bridge in the brave days of old.

YOUR MISSION.

If you cannot on the ocean

Sail among the swiftest fleet,
Rocking on the highest billows,
Laughing at the storms you meet,
You can stand among the sailors,
Anchored yet within the bay,
You can lend a hand to help them,
As they launch their boats away.

If you are too weak to journey
Up the mountain steep and high,
You can stand within the valley,
While the multitudes go by;
You can chant in happy measure,
As they slowly pass along;
Though they may forget the singer,
They will not forget the song.