Lays of ancient rome poem. Horatius by Thomas Babington Macaulay 2022-10-03
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"Lays of Ancient Rome" is a collection of narrative poems written by Thomas Babington Macaulay in the 19th century. The poems, which were published in the early 1830s, tell the stories of some of the most famous events and figures in Roman history, including the legendary Horatius Cocles and the legendary founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus.
The poems are written in a style that is both grand and epic, and they are filled with vivid descriptions of battles, heroism, and honor. Macaulay's use of language is particularly noteworthy, as he uses a variety of literary devices and techniques to bring the stories to life and to convey the emotion and drama of the events that he describes.
One of the most famous poems in the collection is "Horatius," which tells the story of Horatius Cocles, a brave Roman soldier who defended the city of Rome against an invading army. In the poem, Horatius is depicted as a hero who is willing to sacrifice everything in order to protect his city and his people. The poem is filled with vivid descriptions of the battle and the hero's bravery, and it is a testament to the value that the Romans placed on honor and duty.
Another memorable poem in the collection is "The Lay of the Last Minstrel," which tells the story of the legendary founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. In the poem, Romulus is depicted as a strong and determined leader who is determined to found a great city, while Remus is portrayed as a more laid-back and carefree character. The poem tells the story of the brothers' rivalry and eventual reconciliation, and it is a tale of sibling love and loyalty.
Overall, "Lays of Ancient Rome" is a collection of beautifully written and engaging poems that bring the stories of Roman history to life in a way that is both grand and epic. Whether you are interested in Roman history or simply enjoy reading great literature, this collection is definitely worth checking out. So, it is a must read for all history and literature lovers.
Lays of Ancient Rome: Roman Poetry History
For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, in the brave days of old. It was precisely at the time at which the sceptre departed from Greece that the empire of her language and of her arts became universal and despotic. But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. Six spears' lengths from the entrance halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way. Men who remembered Rome engaged in waging petty wars almost within sight of the Capitol lived to see her the mistress of Italy. That literature abounded with metrical romances, such as are found in every country where there is much curiosity and intelligence, but little reading and writing. Nevertheless, when great national dangers require self-sacrifice, this patriotic poem is still appropriate, especially the twenty-seventh stanza: To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late.
We can hardly be mistaken in supposing that, at the great crisis of the civil conflict, they employed themselves in versifying all the most powerful and virulent speeches of the Tribunes, and in heaping abuse on the leaders of the aristocracy. LIII But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. Behind them Rome's long battle Came rolling on the foe, Ensigns dancing wild above, Blades all in line below. So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know: White as snow their armor was: Their steeds were white as snow. Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss; And now mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this.
Lays of ancient Rome : Macaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Baron, 1800
Now right across proud Tarquin A corpse was Julius laid; And Titus groaned with rage and grief, And at Valerius made. Like many others, Horatius at the Bridge was what drew my initial attention to this book. The wailing, hooting, cursing, the howls of grief and hate, Were heard beyond the Pincian Hill, beyond the Latin Gate. But there is one circumstance which deserves especial notice. XXXIII Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low. But it reached its full perfection in ancient Greece; for there can be no doubt that the great Homeric poems are generically ballads, though widely distinguished from all other ballads, and indeed from almost all other human composition, by transcendent sublimity and beauty.
Thou wast not made for lucre, For pleasure, nor for rest; Thou, that art sprung from the War-god's loins, And hast tugged at the she-wolf's breast. Like corn before the sickle The stout Laninians fell, Beneath the edge of the true sword That kept the bridge so well. Forth with a shout sprang Titus, And seized black Auster's rein. I've wanted to read of Horaius for so long, I've been quoting him for years, so it was about time that I read it. On the house-tops was no woman But spat towards him and hissed, No child but screamed out curses, And shook its little fist.
Lays of Ancient Rome: Essays and Poems by Thomas Babington Macaulay
The occasion was one likely to excite the strongest feelings of national pride. VI Blithe it was to see the twins, Right goodly youths and tall, Marching from Alba Longa To their old grandsire's hall. Macaulay's introduction gives a fascinating description of the role of ballads and song in establishing and passing on culture. XLV He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, Sprang right at Astur's face. But there was an earlier Latin literature, a literature truly Latin, which has wholly perished, which had, indeed almost wholly perished long before those whom we are in the habit of regarding as the greatest Latin writers were born. Sir Consul: Lars Porsena is here.
Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. And then his eyes grew very dim, and his throat began to swell, And in a hoarse, changed voice he spake, "Farewell, sweet child! Horatius was known as a courageous and brave leader of the Roman army. The Battle of the Lake Regillus A Lay Sung at the Feast of Castor and Pollux on the Ides of Quintilis in the year of the City CCCCLI. XXXIII Now Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, And the Tribunes beard the high , And the Fathers grind the low. Manly poetry for manly men. Knowledge advances; manners change; great foreign models of composition are studied and imitated.
Lays of Ancient Rome: The Poetry and Songs of the Roman Peoples, Depicting Their Battles, Folk History and Gods by Thomas Babington Macaulay
Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate them into mere prose. Ther was the dougghte Doglas slean: The Perse never went away. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. Forthwith up rose the Consul, Up rose the Fathers all; In haste they girded up their gowns, And hied them to the wall. Louis, should attend the king to chapel, should hear mass, and should subsequently hold their great annual assembly. LXII Never, I ween, did swimmer, In such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing place: But his limbs were borne up bravely By the brave heart within, And our good father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin.
Such varlets pimp and jest for hire among the lying Greeks: Such varlets still are paid to hoot when brave Licinius speaks. But the girl's father, a brave soldier, saved her from servitude and dishonor by stabbing her to the heart in the sight of the whole Forum. With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel on her arm, Home she went bounding from the school, nor dreamed of shame or harm; And past those dreaded axes she innocently ran, With bright frank brow that had not learned to blush at gaze of man; And up the Sacred Street she turned, and, as she danced along, She warbled gayly to herself lines of the good old song, How for a sport the princes came spurring from the camp, And found Lucrece, combing the fleece, under the midnight lamp. The Prophecy of Capys It can hardly be necessary to remind any reader that according to the popular tradition, Romulus, after he had slain his granduncle Amulius, and restored his grandfather Numitor, determined to quit Alba, the hereditary domain of the Sylvian princes, and to found a new city. They originally appeared in a poetical form.
Among the grievances under which the Plebeians suffered, three were felt as peculiarly severe. Hard by, a flesher on a block had laid his whittle down: Virginius caught the whittle up, and hid it in his gown. By the Nine Gods he swore it, And named a trysting day, And bade his messengers ride forth, East and west and south and north, To summon his array. 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. LXVIII And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within; LXIX When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows; LXX When the goodman mends his armor, And trims his helmet's plume; When the goodwife's shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. Then shouted loud the Latines; And with one rush they bore The struggling Romans backward Three lances' length and more: And up they took proud Tarquin, And laid him on a shield, And four strong yeomen bare him, Still senseless, from the field.