Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
      Could the wan burghers spy
    The line of blazing villages
      Red in the midnight sky,
    The Fathers of the City,
      They sat all night and day,
    For every hour some horseman came
      With tidings of dismay.

    XVII.

    To eastward and to westward
      Have spread the Tuscan bands;
    Nor house nor fence nor dovecot
      In Crustumerium stands. 
    Verbenna down to Ostia
      Hath wasted all the plain;
    Astur hath stormed Janiculum,
      And the stout guards are slain.

    XVIII.

    I wis, in all the Senate,
      There was no heart so bold
    But sore it ached and fast it beat
      When that ill news was told. 
    Forthwith up rose the Consul,
      Up rose the Fathers all;
    In haste they girded up their gowns
      And hied them to the wall.

    XIX.

    They held a council standing
      Before the River Gate;
    Short time was there, ye well may guess,
      For musing or debate. 
    Out spake the Consul roundly,
      “The bridge must straight go down,
    For, since Janiculum is lost,
      Naught else can save the town.”

    XX.

    Just then a scout came flying,
      All wild with haste and fear: 
    “To arms! to arms!  Sir Consul;
      Lars Porsena is here!”
    On the low hills to westward
      The Consul fixed his eye,
    And saw the swarthy storm of dust
      Rise fast along the sky.

    XXI.

    And nearer fast, and nearer,
      Doth the red whirlwind come;
    And louder still, and still more loud,
    From underneath that rolling cloud,
    Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
      The trampling and the hum. 
    And plainly and more plainly
      Now through the gloom appears,
    Far to left and far to right,
    In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
    The long array of helmets bright,
      The long array of spears.

    XXII.

    And plainly and more plainly,
      Above that glimmering line,
    Now might ye see the banners
      Of twelve fair cities shine;
    But the banner of proud Clusium
      Was highest of them all,
    The terror of the Umbrian,
      The terror of the Gaul.

    XXIII.

    And plainly and more plainly. 
      Now might the burghers know,
    By port and vest, by horse and crest,
      Each warlike Lucumo. 
    There Cilnius of Arretium
      On his fleet roan was seen;
    And Astur of the fourfold shield,
    Girt with the brand none else may wield,
    Tolumnius with the belt of gold,
    And dark Verbenna from the hold
      By reedy Thrasymene.

    XXIV.