This week, and next week, I will be covering the long poem Horatius, by Lord Macaulay. I have chosen this poem because it is a tale of heroic resistance to overwhelming odds, and it is easy to draw parallels with the present day. This week’s stanzas tell of the fall of the bridge and the fate of Horatius.
‘Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!
Thomas Babington Macaulay, Lord Macaulay (1800—1859)
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge this day!’
Poem 368. Horatius, stanzas LIII to LXIV (The bridge falls)
LIV
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.
LV
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.
LVI
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 whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea.
LVII
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 on his pale face.
‘Now yield thee,’ cried Lars Porsena,
‘Now yield thee to our grace!’
LVIII
Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus nought spake he;
But he saw on Palatins
The white porch of his home;
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.
LIX
‘Oh, 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.
LX
No sound of joy or sorrow
Was heard from either bank;
But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
With parted 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 forbear to cheer.
LXI
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 armour,
And spent with changing blows:
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.
LXII
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.
LXIII
‘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.’
LXIV
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.
The three heroes have defended the bridge against all comers and now it is ready to fall, with the Romans loudly calling them back across the spans before it completely disintegrates. Spurius and Herminius take their cues and dash back across but Horatius stays a moment too long to ensure that they are not pursued, and before his brothers-in-arms can return to his side, the bridge collapses into the raging torrent below, sending fountains of river water high against the turrets of the city wall as the Romans exult in triumph while the river carries all before it as it rushes towards the sea.
Horatius is left with the violence of the river behind him and the threat of a ninety-thousand strong army before, but he maintains his confident attitude as if he is determined to maintain the impasse even in the face of the overwhelming odds and the apparent absence of any escape route. Sextus urges the army to fall on the hero and destroy him, apparently still stinging from the gibes he received from the three heroes before the bridge fell, but Lars Porsena offers quarter to the brave warrior, seemingly impressed by his courage and competence.
Horatius further demonstrates his disdain for the Etruscans by turning his back on them, refusing either to answer the king’s offer or to acknowledge Sextus’s existence. He gazes across the chasm at his home on Palatins, and addresses the river itself, praying that father Tiber will preserve him as he sheathes his sword and dives into the surging river, armour and all.
Both sides are dumbstruck by this suicidal act and stare in silence at the swirling waters, anticipating his destruction but fostering the faint hope that this brave man will somehow escape drowning as he has already escaped death in its more violent guises. When his helm breaks the surface and the hope is fulfilled, his fellow citizens yell joyously and even the Etruscans are relieved and must resist the urge to cheer also.
Horatius faces another wearying battle, this time with a foe that cannot be defeated by solid blows or stout defence: he must endure the pounding of the swollen waters, hampered by his armour, weakened by the wound he has suffered and fatigued by his efforts in defending the bridge. Many a time, he is swamped and it seems as if he has gone but he resolutely struggles across the flood as both sides fascinatedly watch him. His own efforts and perhaps father Tiber, propitiated by Horatius’s prayer and impressed by his courage, carry him from one wave to the next.
Sextus, continuing to demonstrate his base nature, curses the toiling figure, hoping that he will drown and complaining that they could have won the town but for his obduracy, but Lars Porsena answers reprovingly that no one has ever seen such bravery, and he hopes that Horatius will be rewarded for his courage and will win to the further shore. At this moment, the hero finds that the water is shallow enough to rise and he steps out of the water, to be greeted by the rejoicing city fathers and citizens, who bear him though the gate in triumph.
I like this part of the poem because it really emphasises the heroic nature of Horatius through the reactions of the Romans and the Etruscans—we see the tension on both sides as they wait for him to break the surface—and the nobility of Lars Porsena who recognises the courage of his opponent, which contrasts with the vile Sextus, who is interested only in the death of the hero as retribution for balking his ambition of sacking Rome. It builds the tension line by line as we, like those on both sides, watch Horatius struggle with the river.
There are a couple of good performances of the poem on YouTube: one by Jake Phillips, and a group reading recorded by A Kindly Voice during the Covid-19 pandemic.