XLIII

He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter[57] 360
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?"


XLIV

Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height, 365
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius,
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh: 370
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.


XLV

He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space; 375