Lays of Ancient Rome Part 7

x.x.x

But, like a graven image, Black Auster kept his place, And ever wistfully he looked Into his master's face.

The raven-mane that daily, With pats and fond caresses, The young Herminia washed and combed, And twined in even tresses, And decked with colored ribbons From her own gay attire, Hung sadly o'er her father's corpse In carnage and in mire.

Forth with a shout sprang t.i.tus, And seized black Auster's rein.

Then Aulus sware a fearful oath, And ran at him amain.

"The furies of thy brother With me and mine abide, If one of your accursed house Upon black Auster ride!"

As on a Alpine watch-tower From heaven comes down the flame, Full on the neck of t.i.tus The blade of Aulus came: And out the red blood spouted, In a wide arch and tall, As spouts a fountain in the court Of some rich Capuan's hall.

The knees of all the Latines Were loosened with dismay, When dead, on dead Herminius, The bravest Tarquin lay.

x.x.xI

And Aulus the Dictator Stroked Auster's raven mane, With heed he looked unto the girths, With heed unto the rein.

"Now bear me well, black Auster, Into yon thick array; And thou and I will have revenge For thy good lord this day."

x.x.xII

So spake he; and was buckling Tighter black Auster's band, When he was aware of a princely pair That rode at his right hand.

So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know: White as snow their armor was: Their steeds were white as snow.

Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armor gleam; And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream.

x.x.xIII

And all who saw them trembled, And pale grew every cheek; And Aulus the Dictator Scarce gathered voice to speak.

"Say by what name men call you?

What city is your home?

And wherefore ride ye in such guise Before the ranks of Rome?"

x.x.xIV

"By many names men call us; In many lands we dwell: Well Samothracia knows us; Cyrene knows us well.

Our house in gay Tarentum Is hung each morn with flowers: High o'er the masts of Syracuse Our marble portal towers; But by the proud Eurotas Is our dear native home; And for the right we come to fight Before the ranks of Rome."

x.x.xV

So answered those strange hors.e.m.e.n, And each couched low his spear; And forthwith all the ranks of Rome Were bold, and of good cheer: And on the thirty armies Came wonder and affright, And Ardea wavered on the left, And Cora on the right.

"Rome to the charge!" cried Aulus; "The foe begins to yield!

Charge for the hearth of Vesta!

Charge for the Golden s.h.i.+eld!

Let no man stop to plunder, But slay, and slay, and slay; The G.o.ds who live forever Are on our side to-day."

x.x.xVI

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 Aulus Was lifted up to slay; Then, like a crag down Apennine, Rushed Auster through the fray.

But under those strange hors.e.m.e.n Still thicker lay the slain; And after those strange horses Black Auster toiled in vain.

Behind them Rome's long battle Came rolling on the foe, Ensigns dancing wild above, Blades all in line below.

So comes the Po in flood-time Upon the Celtic plain; So comes the squall, blacker than night, Upon the Adrian main.

Now, by our Sire Quirinus, It was a goodly sight To see the thirty standards Swept down the tide of flight.

So flies the spray of Adria When the black squall doth blow So corn-sheaves in the flood-time Spin down the whirling Po.

False s.e.xtus to the mountains Turned first his horse's head; And fast fled Ferentinum, And fast Lanuvium fled.

The hors.e.m.e.n of Nomentus Spurred hard out of the fray; The footmen of Velitrae Threw s.h.i.+eld 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 Anio's echoing banks, And Tullus of Arpinum, Chief of the Volscian aids, And Metius with the long fair curls, The love of Anxur's maids, And the white head of Vulso, The great Arician seer, And Nepos of Laurentum The hunter of the deer; And in the back false s.e.xtus Felt the good Roman steel, And wriggling in the dust he died, Like a worm beneath the wheel: And fliers and pursuers Were mingled in a ma.s.s; And far away the battle Went roaring through the pa.s.s.

x.x.xVII

Semponius Atratinus Sat in the Eastern Gate, Beside him were three Fathers, Each in his chair of state; Fabius, whose nine stout grandsons That day were in the field, And Manlius, eldest of the Twelve Who keep the Golden s.h.i.+eld; And Sergius, the High Pontiff, For wisdom far renowned; In all Etruria's colleges Was no such Pontiff found.

And all around the portal, And high above the wall, Stood a great throng of people, But sad and silent all; Young lads and stooping elders That might not bear the mail, Matrons with lips that quivered, And maids with faces pale.

Since the first gleam of daylight, Semp.r.o.nius had not ceased To listen for the rus.h.i.+ng Of horse-hoofs from the east.

The mist of eve was rising, The sun was hastening down, When he was aware of a princely pair Fast p.r.i.c.king towards the town.

So like they were, man never Saw twins so like before; Red with gore their armor was, Their steeds were red with gore.

x.x.xVIII

"Hail to the great Asylum!

Hail to the hill-tops seven!

Hail to the fire that burns for aye, And the s.h.i.+eld that fell from heaven!

This day, by Lake Regillus, Under the Porcian height, All in the lands of Tusculum Was fought a glorious fight.

Tomorrow your Dictator Shall bring in triumph home The spoils of thirty cities To deck the shrines of Rome!"

x.x.xIX

Then 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 rode these strange hors.e.m.e.n, With slow and lordly pace; And none who saw their bearing Durst ask their name or race.

On rode they to the Forum, While laurel-boughs and flowers, From house-tops and from windows, Fell on their crests in showers.

When they drew nigh to Vesta, They vaulted down amain, And washed their horses in the well That springs by Vesta's fane.

And straight again they mounted, And rode to Vesta's door; Then, like a blast, away they pa.s.sed, And no man saw them more.

XL

And all the people trembled, And pale grew every cheek; And Sergius the High Pontiff Alone found voice to speak: "The G.o.ds who live forever Have fought for Rome to-day!

These be the Great Twin Brethren To whom the Dorians pray.

Back comes the chief in triumph, Who, in the hour of fight, Hath seen the Great Twin Brethren In harness on his right.

Safe comes the s.h.i.+p to haven, Through billows and through gales, If once the Great Twin Brethren Sit s.h.i.+ning on the sails.

Wherefore they washed their horses In Vesta's holy well, Wherefore they rode to Vesta's door, I know, but may not tell.

Here, 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 Quintilis, 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 knights be summoned To Mars without the wall: Thence let them ride in purple With joyous trumpet-sound, Each mounted on his war-horse, And each with olive crowned; And pa.s.s in solemn order Before the sacred dome, Where dwell the Great Twin Brethren Who fought so well for Rome."

Virginia

A collection consisting exclusively of war-songs would give an imperfect, or rather an erroneous, notion of the spirit of the old Latin ballads. The Patricians, during more than a century after the expulsion of the Kings, held all the high military commands. A Plebeian, even though, like Lucius Siccius, he were distinguished by his valor and knowledge of war, could serve only in subordinate posts. A minstrel, therefore, who wished to celebrate the early triumphs of his country, could hardly take any but Patricians for his heroes. The warriors who are mentioned in the two preceding lays, Horatius, Lartius, Herminius, Aulus Posthumius, aebutius Elva, Semp.r.o.nius Atratinus, Valerius Poplicola, were all members of the dominant order; and a poet who was singing their praises, whatever his own political opinions might be, would naturally abstain from insulting the cla.s.s to which they belonged, and from reflecting on the system which had placed such men at the head of the legions of the Commonwealth.

But there was a cla.s.s of compositions in which the great families were by no means so courteously treated. No parts of early Roman history are richer with poetical coloring than those which relate to the long contest between the privileged houses and the commonality. The population of Rome was, from a very early period, divided into hereditary castes, which, indeed, readily united to repel foreign enemies, but which regarded each other, during many years, with bitter animosity. Between those castes there was a barrier hardly less strong than that which, at Venice, parted the members of the Great Council from their countrymen. In some respects, indeed, the line which separated an Icilius or a Duilius from a Posthumius or a Fabius was even more deeply marked than that which separated the rower of gondola from a Contarini or a Morosini. At Venice the distinction was merely civil. At Rome it was both civil and religious. Among the grievances under which the Plebeians suffered, three were felt as peculiarly severe. They were excluded from the highest magistracies; they were excluded from all share in the public lands; and they were ground down to the dust by partial and barbarous legislation touching pecuniary contracts. The ruling cla.s.s in Rome was a moneyed cla.s.s; and it made and administered the laws with a view solely to its own interest. Thus the relation between lender and borrower was mixed up with the relation between sovereign and subject. The great men held a large portion of the community in dependence by means of advances at enormous usury. The law of debt, framed by creditors, and for the protection of creditors, was the host horrible that has ever been known among men. The liberty and even the life of the insolvent were at the mercy of the Patrician money-lenders.

Children often became slaves in consequence of the misfortunes of their parents. The debtor was imprisoned, not in a public jail under the care of impartial public functionaries, but in a private workhouse belonging to the creditor. Frightful stories were told respecting these dungeons. It was said that torture and brutal violation were common; that tight stocks, heavy chains, scanty measures of food, were used to punish wretches guilty of nothing but poverty; and that brave soldiers, whose b.r.e.a.s.t.s were covered with honorable scars, were often marked still more deeply on the back by the scourges of high-born usurers.