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


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 Lacedæmon,
        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


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


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


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


"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."


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


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."


So Aulus was Dictator,
        The man of seventy fights;
He made Æbutius Elva
        His Master of the Knights.
On the third morn thereafter,
        At downing of the day,
Did Aulus and ®butius
        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


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 treesŃ
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


Aricia, Cora, Norba,
        Velitræ, 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


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


But in the centre thickest
        Were ranged the shields of foes,
And from the centre loudest
        The cry of battle 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


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


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 Fidenæ 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


But far to the north ®butius,
        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.
®butius smote Mamilius
        So fiercely on the shield
That the great lord of Tusculum
        Well-nigh rolled on the field.
Mamilius smote ®butius,
        With a good aim and true,
Just where the next and shoulder join,
        And pierced him through and through;
And brave ®butius 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?"


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 Cæso
        A death wound in the face;
Tall Cæso 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


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!"


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


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;"


Then answered Caius Cossus:
        "I see an evil sight;
The banner of proud Tusculum
        Comes from the Latian right;
I see the plumèd 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."


"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."


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


"Herminius! Aulus greets thee;
        He bids thee come with speed,
To help our central battle,
        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


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!"


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!"


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-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 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


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."


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


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?"


"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."


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."


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 Velitræ
        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


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


"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!"


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


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."

Last modified 7 February 2007