by Thomas B. Macaulay
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!"
Continued next week. Tomorrow's installment from the great Arab book Thousand and One Nights.
This poem celebrates a desperate battle the early Romans had with their immediate neighbors. The Romans won only after the gods intervened. Scottish poet Macaulay published this in 1842.
Illustration: Photo of site of the battle. Lake was drained in the 4th. century B.C. Photo by Luiclemens at en.wikipedia, CC-BY-SA-3.0.
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