Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/217

 He reeled, and on Herminius

He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds,

Sprang right at Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet,

So fierce a thrust he sped The good sword stood a handbreadth out

Behind the Tuscan's head.

And the great Lord of Luna

Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus

A thunder-smitten oak : Far o'er the crashing forest

The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low,

Gaze on the blasted head.

On Astur's throat Horatius

Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain,

Ere he wrenched out the steel. 'And see,' he cried, 'the welcome,

Fair guests, that waits you here ! What noble Lucumo comes next

To taste our Roman cheer? '

But at his haughty challenge

A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath and shame and dread,

Along that glittering van.

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