Lars Porsena of Clusium, by the nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin, should suffer wrong no 
more
By the nine Gods he swore it, and named a trysting day
And bade his messengers ride forth, to summon his array
East and West and South and North to summon his array
[Solo: Pain]
A mile around the city, the throng stopped up the ways
A fearful sight it was to see, through two long nights 
and days
Out spake the Consul roundly:
“The bridge must straight go down
For, since Janiculum is lost, nought else can save the 
town”
Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:
“To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or 
late
And how can man die better, than facing fearful odds
For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his 
gods”
Standeth our tryptic of braved souls to hold fast the 
way
Approacheth the mighty Tuscan hoard
Led by Astur, to do battle this day
All appeareth lost on the bridge
And in a far off land a dwarf did weep
Lord of Luna with sword to the thigh
Cuts Horatius deep to the bone he might die
But Herminius retaliates
Swift of blow knife plunged deep in his face and he 
dies
But meanwhile axe and lever, have manfully been plied
And now the bridge hands tottering, above the boiling 
tide
But when they turned their faces, and on the farther 
shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed 
once more
And now with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping 
loud
He enters through the River-Gate, borne by the joyous 
crowd
With weeping and with laughter, still is the story told
How well Horatius kept the bridge, in the brave days of 
old