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 192 MACAULAY

Six spears' lengths from the entrance

Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth

To win the narrow way.

But hark ! the cry is Astur :

And lo! the ranks divide; And the great Lord of Luna

Comes with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand

Which none but he can wield.

He smiled on those bold Romans

A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans,

And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, 'The she-wolf's litter

Stands savagely at bay : But will ye dare to follow,

If Astur clears the way ? '

Then, whirling up his broadsword

With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius,

And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius

Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;

It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh : The Tuscans raised a joyful cry

To see the red blood flow.

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