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CCCLXXXII
Ye good men of the Commons； with loving hearts and true； Who
stand by the bold Tribunes that still have stood by you； Come； make a
circle round me； and mark my tale with care； A tale of what Rome once
hath borne； of what Rome yet may bear。 This is no Grecian fable； of
fountains running wine； Of maids with snaky tresses； or sailors turned to
swine。 Here； in this very Forum； under the noonday sun； In sight of all the
people； the bloody deed was done。 Old men still creep among us who saw
that fearful day； Just seventy years and seven ago； when the wicked Ten
bare sway。
Of all the wicked Ten still the names are held accursed； And of
all the wicked Ten Appius Claudius was the worst。 He stalked along the
Forum like King Tarquin in his pride： Twelve axes waited on him； six
marching on a side； The townsmen shrank to right and left； and eyed
askance with fear His lowering brow； his curling mouth which always
seemed to sneer； That brow of hate； that mouth of scorn； marks all the
kindred still； For never was there Claudius yet but wished the Commons
ill； Nor lacks he fit attendance； for close behind his heels； With
outstretched chin and crouching pace； the client Marcus steals； His loins
girt up to run with speed； be the errand what it may； And the smile
flickering on his cheek； for aught his lord may say。 Such varlets pimp and
jest for hire among the lying Greeks： Such varlets still are paid to hoot
when brave Licinius speaks。 Where'er ye shed the honey； the buzzing flies
will crowd； Where'er ye fling the carrion； the raven's croak is loud；
Where'er down Tiber garbage floats； the greedy pike ye see； And
wheresoe'er such lord is found； such client still will be。
Just then； as through one cloudless chink in a black stormy sky
Shines out the dewy morning…star； a fair young girl came by。 With her
small tablets in her hand； and her satchel on her arm； Home she went
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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 maiden
sang as sings the lark； when up he darts his flight； From his nest in the
green April corn； to meet the morning light； And Appius heard her sweet
young voice； and saw her sweet young face； And loved her with the
accursed love of his accursed race； And all along the Forum； and up the
Sacred Street； His vulture eye pursued the trip of those small glancing feet。
。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。 。
Over the Alban mountains the light of morning broke； From all the
roofs of the Seven Hills curled the thin wreaths of smoke： The city…gates
were opened； the Forum all alive With buyers and with sellers was
humming like a hive： Blithely on brass and timber the craftsman's stroke
was ringing； And blithely o'er her panniers the market…girl was singing；
And blithely young Virginia came smiling from her home： Ah！ woe for
young Virginia； the sweetest maid in Rome！ With her small tablets in her
hand； and her satchel on her arm； Forth she went bounding to the school；
nor dreamed of shame or harm。 She crossed the Forum shining with stalls
in alleys gay； And just had reached the very spot whereon I stand this day；
When up the varlet Marcus came； not such as when erewhile He crouched
behind his patron's heels with the true client smile： He came with lowering
forehead； swollen features； and clenched fist； And strode across Virginia's
path； and caught her by the wrist。 Hard strove the frightened maiden； and
screamed with look aghast； And at her scream from right and left the folk
came running fast； The money…changer Crispus； with his thin silver hairs；
And Hanno from the stately booth glittering with Punic wares； And the
strong smith Mur 鎛 a； grasping a half…forged brand； And Volero the
flesher； his cleaver in his hand。 All came in wrath and wonder； for all knew
that fair child； And； as she passed them twice a day； all kissed their hands
and smiled； And the strong smith Mur 鎛 a gave Marcus such a blow； The
caitiff reeled three paces back； and let the maiden go。 Yet glared he
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fiercely round him； and growled in harsh； fell tone； ‘‘She's mine； and I will
have her； I seek but for mine own： She is my slave； born in my house； and
stolen away and sold； The year of the sore sickness； ere she was twelve
hours old。 'Twas in the sad September； the month of wail and fright； Two
augers were borne forth that morn； the Consul died ere night。 I wait on
Appius Claudius； I waited on his sire： Let him who works the client wrong
beware the patron's ire。''
So spake the varlet Marcus； and dread and silence came On all the
people at the sound of the great Claudian name。 For then there was no
Tribune to speak the word of might； Which makes the rich man tremble；
and guards the poor man's right。 There was no brave Licinius； no honest
Sixtius then； But all the city； in great fear； obeyed the wicked Ten。 Yet ere
the varlet Marcus again might seize the maid； Who clung tight to Mur 鎛
a's skirt； and sobbed； and shrieked for aid； Forth through the throng of
gazers the young Icilius pressed； And stamped his foot； and rent his gown；
and smote upon his breast； And sprang upon that column； by many a
minstrel sung； Whereon three mouldering helmets； three rusting swords；
are hung； And beckoned to the people； and in bold voice and clear Poured
thick and fast the burning words which tyrants quake to hear。
‘‘Now； by your children's cradles； now by your fathers' graves； Be
men to…day； Quirites； or be forever slaves！ For this did Servius give us
laws？ For this did Lucrece bleed？ For this was the great vengeance
wrought on Tarquin's evil seed？ For this did those false sons make red the
axes of their sire？ For this did Sc 鎣ola's right hand hiss in the Tuscan fire？
Shall the vile fox…earth awe the race that stormed the lion's den？ Shall we；
who could not brook one lord； crouch to the wicked Ten？ Oh； for that
ancient spirit which curbed the Senate's will！ Oh； for the tents which in old
time whitened the Sacred Hill！ In those brave days our fathers stood firmly
side by side； They faced the Marcian fury； they tamed the Fabian pride：
They drove the fiercest Quinctius an outcast forth from Rome； They sent
the haughtiest Claudius with shivered fasces home。 But what their care
bequeathed us our madness flung away： All the ripe fruit of threescore
years was blighted in a day。 Exult； ye proud Patricians！ The hard…fought
fight is o'er。 We strove for honors'twas in vain； for freedom'tis no more。
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No crier to the polling summons the eager throng； No Tribune breathes the
word of might that guards the weak from wrong。 Our very hearts； that
were so high； sink down beneath your will。 Riches； and lands； and power；
and stateye have them：keep them still。 Still keep the holy fillets； still
keep the purple gown； The axes； and the curule chair； the car； and laurel
crown： Still press us for your cohorts； and； when the fight is done； Still fill
your garners from the soil which our good swords have won。 Still； like a
spreading ulcer； which leech…craft may not cure； Let your foul usance eat
away the substance of the poor。 Still let your haggard debtors bear all their
fathers bore； Still let your dens of torment be noisome as of yore； No fire
when Tiber freezes； no air in dog…star he