Out spake the Consul roundly :
'The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost, Nought else can save the town.'
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.
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.
And plainly and more plainly
Above that glimmering line Now might ye see the banners
Of twelve fair cities shine;
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