The Battle of the Lake Regillus

The following poem is supposed to have been produced about ninety years after the lay of Horatius. Some persons mentioned in the lay of Horatius make their appearance again, and some appellations and epithets used in the lay of Horatius have been purposely repeated: for, in an age of ballad-poetry, it scarcely ever fails to happen, that certain phrases come to be appropriated to certain men and things, and are regularly applied to those men and things by every minstrel. Thus we find, both in the Homeric poems and in Hesiod, [several examples of common phrases, in Greek]. Thus, too, in our own national songs, Douglas is almost always the doughty Douglas; England is merry England; all the gold is red; and all the ladies are gay.

The principal distinction between the lay of Horatius and the lay of the Lake Regillus is that the former is meant to be purely Roman, while the latter, though national in its general spirit, has a slight tincture of Greek learning and of Greek superstition. The story of the Tarquins, as it has come down to us, appears to have been compiled from the works of several popular poets; and one, at least, of those poets appears to have visited the Greek colonies in Italy, if not Greece itself, and to have had some acquaintance with the works of Homer and Herodotus. Many of the most striking adventures of the House of Tarquin, before Lucretia makes her appearance, have a Greek character. The Tarquins themselves are represented as Corinthian nobles of the great House of the Bacchiad*, driven from their country by the tyranny of that Cypselus, the tale of whose strange escape Herodotus has related with incomparable simplicity and liveliness. Livy and Dionysius tell us that, when Tarquin the Proud was asked what was the best mode of governing a conquered city, he replied only by beating down with his staff all the tallest poppies in his garden. This is exactly what Herodotus, in the passage to which reference has already been made, relates of the counsel given to Periander, the son of Cypselus. The stratagem by which the town of Gabii is brought under the power of the Tarquins is, again, obviously copied from Herodotus. The embassy of the young Tarquins to the oracle at Delphi is just such a story

as would be told by a poet whose head was full of the Greek mythology; and the ambiguous answer returned by Apollo is in the exact style of the prophecies which, according to Herodotus, lured Croesus to destruction. Then the character of the narrative changes. From the first mention of Lucretia to the retreat of Porsena nothing seems to be borrowed from foreign sources. The villainy of Sextus, the suicide of his victim, the revolution, the death of the sons of Brutus, the defence of the bridge, Musius burning his hand, Cloelia swimming through Tiber, seem to be all strictly Roman. But when we have done with the Tuscan wars, and enter upon the war with the Latines, we are again struck by the Greek air of the story. The Battle of the Lake Regillus is in all respects a Homeric battle, except that the combatants ride astride on their horses, instead of driving chariots. The mass of fighting men is hardly mentioned. The leaders single each other out, and engage hand to hand. The great object of the warriors on both sides is, as in the Iliad, to obtain possession of the spoils and bodies of the slain; and several circumstances are related which forcibly remind us of the great slaughter round the corpses of Sarpedon and Patroclus.

But there is one circumstance which deserves especial notice. Both the war of Troy and the war of Regillus were caused by the licentious passions of young princes, who were therefore peculiarly bound not to be sparing of their own persons on the day of battle. Now the conduct of Sextus at Regillus, as described by Livy, so exactly resembles that of Paris, as described at the beginning of the third book of the Iliad, that it is difficult to believe the resemblance accidental. Paris appears before the Trojan ranks, defying the bravest Greek to encounter him:--

3 lines from the Iliad, in Greek, probably those translated by Pope as:

... to the van, before the sons of fame Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came:

Livy introduces Sextus in a similar manner: ``Ferocem juvenem Tarquinium, ostentantem se in prima exsulum acie.'' Menelaus rushes to meet Paris. A Roman noble, eager for vengeance, spurs his horse towards Sextus. Both the guilty princes are instantly terror-stricken:--

3 more lines in Greek, Pope's translation being:

...[Menelaus] approaching near, The beauteous champion views with marks of fear, Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, And shuns the fate he well deserv'd to find.

``Tarquinius,'' says Livy, ``retro in agmen suorum infenso cessit hosti.'' If this be a fortuitous coincidence, it is also one of the most extraordinary in literature.

In the following poem, therefore, images and incidents have been borrowed, not merely without scruple, but on principle, from the incomparable battle-pieces of Homer.

The popular belief at Rome, from an early period, seems to have been that the event of the great day of Regillus was decided by supernatural agency. Castor and Pollux, it was said, had fought armed and mounted, at the head of the legions of the commonwealth, and had afterwards carried the news of the victory with incredible speed to the city. The well in the Forum at which they had alighted was pointed out. Near the well rose their ancient temple. A great festival was kept to their honor on the Ides of Quintilis, supposed to be the anniversary of the battle; and on that day sumptuous sacrifices were offered to them at the public charge. One spot on the margin of Lake Regillus was regarded during many ages with superstitious awe. A mark, resembling in shape a horse's hoof, was discernible in the volcanic rock; and this mark was believed to have been made by one of the celestial chargers.

How the legend originated cannot now be ascertained; but we may easily imagine several ways in which it might have originated; nor is it at all necessary to suppose, with Julius Frontinus, that two young men were dressed up by the Dictator to personate the sons of Leda. It is probable that Livy is correct when he says that the Roman general, in the hour of peril, vowed a temple to Castor. If so, nothing could be more natural than that the multitude should ascribe the victory to the favor of the Twin Gods. When such was the prevailing sentiment, any man who chose to declare that, in the midst of the confusion and slaughter, he had seen two godlike forms on white horses scattering the Latines, would find ready credence. We know, indeed, that in modern times a very similar story actually found

credence among a people much more civilized than the Romans of the fifth century before Christ. A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of printing presses, libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and statesmen, had the face to assert that, in one engagement against the Indians, St. James had appeared on a gray horse at the head of the Castilian adventurers. Many of those adventurers were living when this lie was printed. One of them, honest Bernal Diaz, wrote an account of the expedition. He had the evidence of his own senses against the legend; but he seems to have distrusted even the evidence of his own senses. He says that he was in the battle, and that he saw a gray horse with a man on his back, but that the man was, to his thinking, Francesco de Morla, and not the ever-blessed apostle St. James.

``Nevertheless,'' Bernal adds, ``it may be that the person on the gray horse was the glorious apostle St. James, and that I, sinner that I am, was unworthy to see him.'' The Romans of the age of Cincinatus were probably quite as credulous as the Spanish subjects of Charles the Fifth. It is therefore conceivable that the appearance of Castor and Pollux may be become an article of faith before the generation which had fought at Regillus had passed away. Nor could anything be more natural than that the poets of the next age should embellish this story, and make the celestial horsemen bear the tidings of victory to Rome.

Many years after the temple of the Twin Gods had been built in the Forum, an important addition was made to the ceremonial by which the state annually testified its gratitude for their protection. Quintus Fabius and Publius Decius were elected Censors at a momentous crisis. It had become absolutely necessary that the classification of the citizens should be revised. On that classification depended the distribution of political power. Party spirit ran high; and the republic seemed to be in danger of falling under the dominion either of a narrow oligarchy or of an ignorant and headstrong rabble. Under such circumstances, the most illustrious patrician and the most illustrious plebeian of the age were entrusted with the office of arbitrating between the angry factions; and they performed their arduous task to the satisfaction of all honest and reasonable men.

One of their reforms was the remodelling of the equestrian order; and,

having effected this reform, they determined to give to their work a sanction derived from religion. In the chivalrous societies of modern times,--societies which have much more than may at first sight appear in common with with the equestrian order of Rome,--it has been usual to invoke the special protection of some Saint, and to observe his day with peculiar solemnity. Thus the Companions of the Garter wear the image of St. George depending from their collars, and meet, on great occasions, in St. George's Chapel. Thus, when Louis the Fourteenth instituted a new order of chivalry for the rewarding of military merit, he commended it to the favor of his own glorified ancestor and patron, and decreed that all the members of the fraternity should meet at the royal palace on the feast of St. Louis, should attend the king to chapel, should hear mass, and should subsequently hold their great annual assembley. There is a considerable resemblance between this rule of the order of St. Louis and the rule which Fabius and Decius made respecting the Roman knights. It was ordained that a grand muster and inspection of the equestrian body should be part of the ceremonial performed, on the anniversary of the battle of Regillus, in honor of Castor and Pollux, the two equestrian gods. All the knights, clad in purple and crowned with olive, were to meet at a temple of Mars in the suburbs. Thence they were to ride in state to the Forum, where the temple of the Twins stood. This pageant was, during several centuries, considered as one of the most splendid sights of Rome. In the time of Dionysius the cavalcade sometimes consisted of five thousand horsemen, all persons of fair repute and easy fortune.

There can be no doubt that the Censors who instituted this august ceremony acted in concert with the Pontiffs to whom, by the constitution of Rome, the superintendence of the public worship belonged; and it is probable that those high religious functionaries were, as usual, fortunate enough to find in their books or traditions some warrant for the innovation.

The following poem is supposed to have been made for this great occasion. Songs, we know, were chanted at religious festivals of Rome from an early period, indeed from so early a period that some of the sacred verses were popularly ascribed to Numa, and were utterly unintelligible in

the age of Augustus. In the Second Punic War a great feast was held in honor of Juno, and a song was sung in her praise. This song was extant when Livy wrote; and, though exceedingly rugged and uncouth, seemed to him not wholly destitute of merit. A song, as we learn from Horace, was part of the established ritual at the great Secular Jubilee. It is therefore likely that the Censors and Pontiffs, when they had resolved to add a grand procession of knights to the other solemnities annually performed on the Ides of Quintilis, would call in the aid of a poet. Such a poet would naturally take for his subject the battle of Regillus, the appearance of the Twin Gods, and the institution of their festival. He would find abundant materials in the ballads of his predecessors; and he would make free use of the scanty stock of Greek learning which he had himself acquired. He would probably introduce some wise and holy Pontiff enjoining the magnificent ceremonial which, after a long interval, had at length been adopted. If the poem succeeded, many persons would commit it to memory. Parts of it would be sung to the pipe at banquets. It would be peculiarly interesting to the great Posthumian House, which numbered among its many images that of the Dictator Aulus, the hero of Regillus. The orator who, in the following generation, pronounced the funeral panegyric over the remains of Lucius Posthumius Megellus, thrice Consul, would borrow largely from the lay; and thus some passages, much disfigured, would probably find their way into the chronicles which were afterwards in the hands of Dionysius and Livy.

Antiquaries differ widely as to the situation of the field of battle. The opinion of those who suppose that the armies met near Cornufelle, between Frascati and the Monte Porzio, is at least plausible, and has been followed in the poem.

As to the details of the battle, it has not been thought desirable to adhere minutely to the accounts which have come down to us. Those accounts, indeed, differ widely from each other, and, in all probability, differ as widely from the ancient poem from which they were originally derived.

It is unnecessary to point out the obvious imitations of the Iliad, which have been purposely introduced.

The Battle of the Lake Regillus

A Lay Sung at the Feast of Castor and Pollux on the Ides of Quintilis in the year of the City CCCCLI

I

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note! Ho, lictors, clear the way! The Knights will ride, in all their pride, Along the streets to-day. To-day the doors and windows Are hung with garlands all, From Castor in the Forum, To Mars without the wall. Each Knight is robed in purple, With olive each is crowned; A gallant war-horse under each Paws haughtily the ground. While flows the Yellow River, While stands the Sacred Hill, The proud Ides of Quintilis Shall have such honor still. Gay are the Martian Kalends, December's Nones are gay, But the proud Ides, when the squadron rides, Shall be Rome's whitest day.

II

Unto the Great Twin Brethren We keep this solemn feast. Swift, swift, the Great Twin Brethren Came spurring from the east. They came o'er wild Parthenius Tossing in waves of pine, O'er Cirrha's dome, o'er Adria's foam, O'er purple Apennine, From where with flutes and dances Their ancient mansion rings, In lordly Laced鎚on, The City of two kings, To where, by Lake Regillus, Under the Porcian height, All in the lands of Tusculum, Was fought the glorious fight.

III

Now on the place of slaughter Are cots and sheepfolds seen,

And rows of vines, and fields of wheat, And apple-orchards green; The swine crush the big acorns That fall from Corne's oaks. Upon the turf by the Fair Fount The reaper's pottage smokes. The fisher baits his angle; The hunter twangs his bow; Little they think on those strong limbs That moulder deep below. Little they think how sternly That day the trumpets pealed; How in the slippery swamp of blood Warrior and war-horse reeled; How wolves came with fierce gallops, 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 Porcian height; How through the gates of Tusculum Raved the wild stream of flight; And how the Lake Regillus Bubbled with crimson foam, What time the Thirty Cities Came forth to war with Rome.

IV

But Roman, when thou standest Upon that holy ground, Look thou with heed on the dark rock That girds the dark lake round. So shalt thou see a hoof-mark Stamped deep into the flint: It was not hoof of mortal steed That made so strange a dint: There to the Great Twin Brethren Vow thou thy vows, and pray That they, in tempest and in flight, Will keep thy head alway.

V

Since last the Great Twin Brethren Of mortal eyes were seen, Have years gone by an hundred And fourscore and thirteen. That summer a Virginius Was Consul first in place; The second was stout Aulus, Of the Posthumian race. The Herald of the Latines From Gabii came in state: The Herald of the Latines Passed through Rome's Eastern Gate: The Herald of the Latines Did in our Forum stand; And there he did his office, A sceptre in his hand.

VI

``Hear, 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 your walls be strong.''

VII

Then spake the Consul Aulus, He spake a bitter jest: ``Once the jays sent a message Unto the eagle's nest:-- Now yield thou up thine eyrie Unto the carrion-kite, Or come forth valiantly, and face The jays in deadly fight.-- Forth looked in wrath the eagle; And carrion-kite and jay, Soon as they saw his beak and claw, Fled screaming far away.''

VIII

The Herald of the Latines Hath hied him back in state: The Fathers of the City Are met in high debate. Then spake the elder Consul, And ancient man and wise: ``Now harken, Conscript Fathers, To that which I advise. In seasons of great peril 'Tis good that one bear sway; Then choose we a Dictator, Whom all men shall obey. Camerium knows how deeply The sword of Aulus 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.''

IX

So Aulus was Dictator, The man of seventy fights; He made 芺utius Elva His Master of the Knights. On the third morn thereafter, At downing of the day, Did Aulus and 芺utius Set forth with their array. Sempronius Atratinus Was left in charge at home With boys,

and with gray-headed men, To keep the walls of Rome. Hard by the Lake Regillus Our camp was pitched at night: Eastward a mile the Latines lay, Under the Porcian height. Far over hill and valley Their mighty host was spread; And with their thousand watch-fires The midnight sky was red.

X

Up rose the golden morning Over the Porcian height, The proud Ides of Quintilis Marked evermore in white. Not without secret trouble Our bravest saw the foe; For girt by threescore thousand spears, The thirty standards rose. From every warlike city That boasts the Latian name, Fordoomed 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 proudust town of all; From where the Witch's Fortress O'er hangs the dark- blue seas; From the still glassy lake that sleeps Beneath Aricia's trees-- Those trees in whose dim shadow The ghastly priest doth reign, The priest who slew the slayer, And shall himself be slain; From the drear banks of Ufens, Where flights of marsh-fowl play, And buffaloes lie wallowing Through the hot summer's day; From the gigantic watch-towers, No work of earthly men, Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook The never-ending fen; From the Laurentian jungle, The wild hog's reedy home; From the green steeps whence Anio leaps In floods of snow-white foam.

XI

Aricia, Cora, Norba, Velitr*, with the might Of Setia and of Tusculum, Were marshalled on the right: The leader was Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name; Upon his head a helmet Of red gold shone like flame: High on a gallant charger Of dark-gray hue he rode; Over his gilded armor 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 o'er the southern waters.

XII

Lavinium and Laurentum Had on the left their post, With all the banners of the marsh, And banners of the coast. Their leader was 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 Sat spinning by his bed. And as she plied the distaff, In a sweet voice and low, She sang of great old houses, And fights fought long ago. So spun she, and so sang she, Until the east was gray. Then pointed to her bleeding breast, And shrieked, and fled away.

XIII

But in the centre thickest Were ranged the shields of foes, And from the centre loudest The cry of batle rose. There Tibur marched and Pedum Beneath proud Tarquin's rule, And Ferentinum of the rock, And Gabii of the pool. There rode the Volscian succors: There, in the dark stern ring, The Roman exiles gathered close Around the ancient king. Though white as Mount Soracte, When winter nights are long, His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt, His heart and hand were strong: Under his hoary eyebrows Still flashed forth quenchless rage: And, if the lance shook in his gripe, 'Twas more with hate than age. Close at his side was Titus On an Apulian steed, Titus, the youngest Tarquin, Too good for such a breed.

XIV

Now on each side the leaders Gave signal for the charge; And

on each side the footmen Strode on with lance and targe; And on each side the horsemen 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 Pomptine fog at morn, The dust hung overhead; And louder still and louder Rose from the darkened field The braying of the war-horns, The clang of sword and shield, The rush of squadrons sweeping Like whirlwinds o'er the plain, The shouting of the slayers, And screeching of the slain.

XV

False Sextus rode out foremost, His look was high and bold; His corslet was of bison's hide, Plated with steel and gold. As glares the famished eagle From the Digentian rock On a choice lamb that bounds alone Before Bandusia's flock, Herminius glared on Sextus, And came with eagle speed, Herminius on black Auster, 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 Fiden* fell. Woe to the maid whose lover Shall cross his path to-day! False Sextus saw, and trembled, And turned, and fled away. As turns, as flies, the woodman In the Calabrian brake, When through the reeds gleams the round eye Of that fell speckled snake; So turned, so fled, false Sextus, And hid him in the rear, Behind the dark Lavinian ranks, Bristling with crest and spear.

XVI

But far to the north 芺 utius, The Master of the Knights, Gave Tubero of Norba To feed the Porcian kites. Next under those red horse-hoofs Flaccus of Setia lay; Better had he been pruning Among his elms that day. Mamilus saw the slaughter, And tossed his golden crest, And towards the Master of the Knights Through the thick battle pressed. 芺utius smote Mamilius So fiercely on the shield That the great lord of Tusculum Well-nigh rolled on the field.

Mamilius smote 芺utius, With a good aim and true, Just where the next and shoulder join, And pierced him through and through; And brave 芺 utius Elva Fell swooning to the ground: But a thick wall of bucklers Encompassed him around. His clients from the battle Bare 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 words he spake Was,

``Friends, how goes the fight?''.

XVII

But meanwhile in the centre Great deeds of arms were wrought; There Aulus the Dictator And there Valerius fought. Aulus 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 Tarquin's head. He dropped the lance: he dropped the reins: He fell as fall the dead. Down Aulus springs to slay him, With eyes like coals of fire; But faster Titus hath sprung down, And hath bestrode 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 tall C 鎠o A death wound

in the face; Tall C 鎠 o was the bravest man Of the brave Fabian

race: Aulus slew Rex of Gabii, The priest of Juno's shrine; Valerius smote down Julius, Of Rome's great Julian line; Julius, who left his mansion, High on the Velian hill, And through all turns of weal 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. Ah! woe is me for the good house That loves the people well! Then shouted loud the Latines; And with one rush they bore The struggling Romans backward Three lances' length and more: And up they took proud Tarquin, And laid him on a shield, And four strong yeomen

bare him, Still senseless, from the field.

XVIII

But fiercer grew the fighting Around Valerius dead; For Titus dragged him by the foot And Aulus by the head. ``On, Latines, on!'' quoth Titus, ``See how the rebels fly!'' ``Romans, stand firm!'' quoth Aulus, ``And win this fight or die! They must not give Valerius To raven and to kite; For aye Valerius loathed the wrong, And aye upheld the right: And for your wives and babies In the front rank he fell. Now play the men for the good house That loves the people well!.''

XIX

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 wist where he lay. For shivered arms and ensigns 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 befit A Consular of Rome.

XX

But north looked the Dictator; North looked he long and hard, And spake to Caius Cossus, The Captain of his Guard; ``Caius, of all the Romans Thou hast the keenest sight, Say, what through yonder storm of dust Comes from the Latian right;''

XXI

Then answered Caius Cossus: ``I see an evil sight; The banner

of proud Tusculum Comes from the Latian right; I see the plum 閐horsemen; And far before the rest I see the dark-gray charger, I see the purple vest; I see the golden helmet That shines far off like flame; So ever rides Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name.''

XXII

``Now hearken, Caius Cossus: Spring on thy horse's back; Ride as the wolves of Apennine Were all upon thy track; Haste to our southward battle: And never draw thy rein Until thou find Herminius, And bid hime come amain.''

XXIII

So Aulus spake, and turned him Again to that fierce strife; And Caius Cossus mounted, And rode for death and life. Loud clanged beneath his horse-hoofs The helmets of the dead, And many a curdling pool of blood Splashed him heel 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 Laninians fell, Beneath the edge of the true sword That kept the bridge so well.

XXIV

``Herminius! Aulus greets thee; He bids thee come with speed, To help our central bettle, For sore is there our need; There wars the youngest Tarquin, And there the Crest of Flame, The Tusculan Mamilius, Prince of the Latian name. Valerius hath fallen fighting In front of our array; And Aulus of the seventy fields Alone upholds the day.''

Herminius beat his bosom: But never a word he spake. He clapped his hand on Auster's mane, He gave the reins a shake. Away, away, went Auster, Like an arrow from the bow: Black Auster was the fleetest steed From Aufidus to Po.

XXVI

Right glad were all the Romans Who, in that hour of dread, Against great odds bare up the war Around Valerius dead, When from the south the cheering Rose with a mighty swell; ``Herminius comes, Herminius, Who kept the bridge so well!''

XXVII

Mamilius spied Herminius, And dashed across the way.

``Herminius! I have sought thee Through many a bloody day. One of us two, Herminius, Shall never more go home. I will lay on for Tusculum, And lay thou on for Rome!

XXVIII

All round them paused the battle, While met in mortal fray The Roman and the Tusculan, The horses black and gray. Herminius smote Mamilius Through breast-plate and through breast, And fast flowed out the purple blood Over the purple vest. Mamilius smote Herminius Through head-piece 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-gray charger fled: He burst through ranks of fighting men, He sprang o'er heaps of dead. His bridle far out-streming, 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 whined; 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 Tusculum, 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 straightway round him gathered A pale and trembling crowd, And when they knew him, cries of rage Brake forth, and wailing loud: And women rent their tresses For their great prince's fall; And old men girt on their old swords, And went to man the wall.

XXX

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 Titus, 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 Titus 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.

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.''

XXXII

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.

XXXIII

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?''

XXXIV

``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.''

XXV

So answered those strange horsemen, 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 Shield! Let no man stop to plunder, But slay, and slay, and slay; The gods who live forever Are on our side to-day.''

XXXVI

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 horsemen 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 Sextus to the mountains Turned first his horse's head; And fast fled Ferentinum, And fast Lanuvium fled. The horsemen of Nomentus Spurred hard out of the fray; The footmen of Velitr* Threw 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 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 Sextus 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 mass; And far away the battle Went roaring through the pass.

XXXVII

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 Shield; 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, Sempronius had not ceased To listen for the rushing 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 pricking 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.

XXXVIII

``Hail to the great Asylum! Hail to the hill-tops seven! Hail to the fire that burns for aye, 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. Tomorrow your Dictator Shall bring in triumph home The spoils of thirty cities To deck the shrines of Rome!''

XXXIX

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 horsemen, 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 passed, 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 gods 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 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 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 pass 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, 芺utius Elva, Sempronius 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 class 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 class 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 class in Rome was a moneyed class; 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 breasts were covered with honorable scars, were often marked still more deeply on the back by the scourges of high-born usurers.

The Plebeians were, however, not wholly without constitutional rights. From an early period they had been admitted to some share of political power. They were enrolled each in his century, and were allowed a share, considerable though not proportioned to their numerical strength, in the disposal of those high dignities from which they were themselves excluded. Thus their position bore some resemblance to that of the Irish Catholics during the interval between the year 1792 and the year 1829. The Plebeians had also the privilege of annually appointing officers, named Tribunes, who had no active share in the government of the commonwealth, but who, by degree, acquired a power formidable even to the ablest and most resolute Consuls and Dictators. The person of the Tribune was inviolable; and, though he could directly effect little, he could obstruct everything.

During more than a century after the institution of the Tribuneship, the Commons struggled manfully for the removal of the grievances under which they labored; and, in spite of many checks and reverses, succeeded in wringing concession after concession from the stubborn aristocracy. At

length in the year of the city 378, both parties mustered their whole strength for their last and most desperate conflict. The popular and active Tribune, Caius Licinius, proposed the three memorable laws which are called by his name, and which were intended to redress the three great evils of which the Plebeians complained. He was supported, with eminent ability and firmness, by his colleague, Lucius Sextius. The struggle appears to have been the fiercest that every in any community terminated without an appeal to arms. If such a contest had raged in any Greek city, the streets would have run with blood. But, even in the paroxysms of faction, the Roman retained his gravity, his respect for law, and his tenderness for the lives of his fellow citizens. Year after year Licinius and Sextius were re 雔 ected Tribunes. Year after year, if the narrative which has come down to us is to be trusted, they continued to exert, to the full extent, their power of stopping the whole machine of government. No curule magistrates could be chosen; no military muster could be held. We know too little of the state of Rome in those days to be able to conjecture how, during that long anarchy, the peace was kept, and ordinary justice administered between man and man. The animosity of both parties rose to the greatest height. The excitement, we may well suppose, would have been peculiarly intense at the annual election of Tribunes. On such occasions there can be little doubt that the great families did all that could be done, by threats and caresses, to break the union of the Plebeians. That union, however, proved indissoluble. At length the good cause triumphed. The Licinian laws were carried. Lucius Sextius was the first Plebeian Consul, Caius Licinius the third.

The results of this great change were singularly happy and glorious.

Two centuries of prosperity, harmony, and victory followed the reconciliation of the orders. Men who remembered Rome engaged in waging petty wars almost within sight of the Capitol lived to see her the mistress of Italy. While the disabilities of the Plebeians continued, she was scarcely able to maintain her ground against the Volscians and Hernicans. When those disabilities were removed, she rapidly became more than a match for Carthage and Macedon.

During the great Licinian contest the Plebeian poets were, doubtless,

not silent. Even in modern times songs have been by no means without influence on public affairs; and we may therefore infer that, in a society where printing was unknown and where books were rare, a pathetic or humorous party-ballad must have produced effects such as we can but faintly conceive. It is certain that satirical poems were common at Rome from a very early period. The rustics, who lived at a distance from the seat of government, and took little part in the strife of factions, gave vent to their petty local animosities in coarse Fescennine verse. The lampoons of the city were doubtless of a higher order; and their sting was early felt by the nobility. For in the Twelve Tables, long before the time of the Licinian laws, a severe punishment was denounced against the citizen who should compose or recite verses reflecting on another. Satire is, indeed, the only sort of composition in which the Latin poets, whose works have come down to us, were not mere imitators of foreign models; and it is therefore the only sort of composition in which they have never been rivalled. It was not, like their tragedy, their comedy, their epic and lyric poetry, a hothouse plant which, in return for assiduous and skilful culture, gave only scanty and sickly fruits. It was hardy and full of sap; and in all the various juices which it yielded might be distinguished the flavor of the Ausonian soil.

``Satire,'' said Quinctilian, with just pride, ``is all our own.'' Satire sprang, in truth, naturally from the constitution of the Roman government and from the spirit of the Roman people; and, though at length subjected to metrical rules derived from Greece, retained to the last an essentially Roman character. Lucilius was the earliest satirist whose works were held in esteem under the Caesars. But many years before Lucilius was born, N 鎣 ius had been flung into a dungeon, and guarded there with circumstances of unusual rigor, on account of the bitter lines in which he had attacked the great Caecilian family. The genius and spirit of the Roman satirists survived the liberty of their country, and were not extinguished by the cruel despotism of the Julian and Flavian Emperors. The great poet who told the story of Domitian's turbot was the legitimate successor of those forgotten minstrels whose songs animated the factions of the infant Republic.

Those minstrels, as Niebuhr has remarked, appear to have generally

taken the popular side. We can hardly be mistaken in supposing that, at the great crisis of the civil conflict, they employed themselves in versifying all the most powerful and virulent speeches of the Tribunes, and in heaping abuse on the leaders of the aristocracy. Every personal defect, every domestic scandal, every tradition dishonorable to a noble house, would be sought out, brought into notice, and exaggerated. The illustrious head of the aristocratical party, Marcus Furius Camillus, might perhaps be, in some measure, protected by his venerable age and by the memory of his great services to the state. But Appius Claudius Crassus enjoyed no such immunity. He was descended from a long line of ancestors distinguished by their haughty demeanor, and by the inflexibility with which they had withstood all the demands of the Plebeian order. While the political conduct and the deportment of the Claudian nobles drew upon them the fiercest public hatred, they were accused of wanting, if any credit is due to the early history of Rome, a class of qualities which, in a military commonwealth, is sufficient to cover a multitude of offences. The chiefs of the family appear to have been eloquent, versed in civil business, and learned after the fashion of their age; but in war they were not distinguished by skill or valor. Some of them, as if conscious where their weakness lay, had, when filling the highest magistracies, taken internal administration as their department of public business, and left the military command to their colleagues. One of them had been entrusted with an army, and had failed ignominiously. None of them had been honored with a triumph. None of them had achieved any martial exploit, such as those by which Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, Titus Quinctius Capitolinus, Aulus Cornelius Cossus, and, above all, the great Camillus, had extorted the reluctant esteem of the multitude. During the Licinian conflict, Appius Claudius Crassus signalized himself by the ability and severity with which he harangued against the two great agitators. He would naturally, therefore, be the favorite mark of the Plebeian satirists; nor would they have been at a loss to find a point on which he was open to attack.

His grandfather, called, like himself, Appius Claudius, had left a name as much detested as that Sextus Tarquinius. This elder Appius had been Consul more than seventy years before the introduction of the Licinian

laws. By availing himself of a singular crisis in public feeling, he had obtained the consent of the Commons to the abolition of the Tribuneship, and had been the chief of that Council of Ten to which the whole direction of the state had been committed. In a new months his administration had become universally odious. It had been swept away by an irresistible outbreak of popular fury; and its memory was still held in abhorrence by the whole city. The immediate cause of the downfall of this execrable government was said to have been an attempt made by Appius Claudius upon the chastity of a beautiful young girl of humble birth. The story ran that the Decemvir, unable to succeed by bribes and solicitations, resorted to an outrageous act of tyranny. A vile dependent of the Claudian house laid claim to the damsel as his slave. The cause was brought before the tribunal of Appius. The wicked magistrate, in defiance of the clearest proofs, gave judgment for the claimant. But the girl's father, a brave soldier, saved her from servitude and dishonor by stabbing her to the heart in the sight of the whole Forum. That blow was the signal for a general explosion. Camp and city rose at once; the Ten were pulled down; the Tribuneship was re 雜 tablished; and Appius escaped the hands of the executioner only by a voluntary death.

It can hardly be doubted that a story so admirably adapted to the purposes both of the poet and of the demagogue would be eagerly seized upon by minstrels burning with hatred against the Patrician order, against the Claudian house, and especially against the grandson and namesake of the infamous Decemvir.

In order that the reader may judge fairly of these fragments of the lay of Virginia, he must imagine himself a Plebeian who has just voted for the re 雔 ection of Sextius and Licinius. All the power of the Patricians has been exerted to throw out the two great champions of the Commons. Every Posthumius, 苖 ilius, and Cornelius has used his influence to the utmost. Debtors have been let out of the workhouses on condition of voting against the men of the people; clients have been posted to hiss and interrupt the favorite candidates; Appius Claudius Crassus has spoken with more than his usual eloquence and asperity: all has been in vain, Licinius and Sextius have a fifth time carried all the tribes: work is suspended; the

booths are closed; the Plebeians bear on their shoulders the two champions of liberty through the Forum. Just at this moment it is announced that a great poet, a zealous adherent of the Tribunes, has made a new song which will cut the Claudian nobles to the heart. The crowd gathers round him, and calls on him to recite it. He takes his stand on the spot where, according to tradition, Virginia, more than seventy years ago, was seized by the pandar of Appius, and he begins his story.