Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/206

 182 MACAULAY

There be thirty chosen prophets,

The wisest of the land, Who alway by Lars Porsena

Both morn and evening stand : Evening and morn the Thirty

Have turned the verses o'er, Traced from the right on linen white

By mighty seers of yore.

And with one voice the Thirty

Have their glad answer given : 'Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;

Go forth, beloved of Heaven; Go, and return in glory

To Clusium's royal dome, And hang round Nurscia's altars

The golden shields of Rome.'

And now hath every city

Sent up her tale of men; The foot are fourscore thousand,

The horse are thousands ten. Before the gates of Sutrium

Is met the great array. A proud man was Lars Porsena

Upon the trysting day !

For all the Etruscan armies Were ranged beneath his eye,

And many a banished Roman, And many a stout ally;

�� �